Forgotten Words
by TexanRose
Summary: When Ezra meets beautiful, well-read, well-traveled photographer/writer Aria at a Rosewood bar, he must figure out how she knows him before he falls for her. Ezria x Spoby x Sparia friendship. Takes place when Aria is 28.
1. Musings

_ The dark-haired man reread the words on the worn and tattered notebook paper written in pencil that was barely legible anymore. The name on the corner of the paper had disappeared into oblivion long ago. Sighing as he drank in the sight of the girlish handwriting and burning innocence of it all, he leaned back in his chair and smiled. The essay made him feel good about himself, feel like he was doing his job a teacher not only correctly but also well. Grinning suddenly, he thought about his life, his wants, his future career. It was a bright and glittering path that lay before him. Just as suddenly that spark of inspiration faded, and he thought about the person who had written the essay. He wondered where she would be in ten years. _

_ Thoughtfully, he stuck the shabby piece of paper in the bottom drawer of his desk. It was the spot where he kept mementos of students whose work had particularly struck a chord in him. There was a rather good research paper from a student now working as a historian at the Carnegie Museum in Pittsburgh. There was a college admissions essay he had helped another student write; he was now studying at Stanford in California. There were typed and written papers, creative pieces, and even some poetry stuck inside the drawer. They had been authored by students who had gone on to have beautifully bright and productive lives around the country. _

_ But as he closed the drawer he couldn't help thinking about this one student, the one who had written this particular essay. It was the first thing he had saved when he began acquiring papers and letters and essays. It was from his first year teaching at Rosewood High. She was the only student whose future-present-he didn't know. There was an aura of mystery around the dark-haired, dark-eyed girl he remembered only a of glimmer of in his mind's eye. _

_ Afraid of losing himself in thoughts about the past, the man shook his head and turned his attention to the freshly-printed pages on his desk, new papers that needed to be graded. He picked one up and began reading. Then he lost himself in his work, in the moment, as he began marking the black and white pages with his read pen and dismissed the dark-haired, dark-eyed girl and her hauntingly beautiful words. _


	2. Chapter 1

**I do not own PLL.**

* * *

As he muffled his frustrated groan, Ezra Fitz looked around the semi-crowded bar and took a sip of his beer. His friend had blown him off for a date with his girlfriend. Again. It was the third time it had happened this month. Sighing, he finished his drink, put a twenty dollar bill on the bar, and resigned himself to a night at home alone.

"Can I buy you a drink?" asked a voice. He saw that it belonged to a woman who was suddenly perched on the barstool next to his, had an eyebrow raised and a half-smile that covered her face. He also saw that she was beautiful and her black lace top left little to the imagination. Suddenly, he wasn't so interested in going home.

"How about I buy you one?" he returned, resettling himself on his barstool. He gestured the bartender to bring them two more beers. He turned back to her. She was staring at him. He noticed big hazel eyes that glittered in the dim light.

"So," he began.

"So," she echoed playfully as her face broke out into a full smile.

"I'm Ezra," he let out.

"Did you get ditched here by a friend, Ezra?" she asked, looking up and down at him.

"How can you tell?" The bartender set their drinks in front of them, and Ezra wondered if he looked that pathetic and out of place by himself at the bar-Rosewood's only bar.

"Because my friend promised to meet me here and then ditched me for her boyfriend. I recognize the disappointment," she answered, taking a hearty swig of her beer. "I also happen to know you don't like to drink alone."

"How do you know that?" He felt slow and encumbered as he talked to her, like she expected him to know something that he didn't.

"I know lots of things about you," she promised. "Like the fact that you're a professor at Hollis." She took another drink of her beer, licking her lips suggestively when she was done.

"Do you go there?" he asked, suddenly wary.

"No, I don't. But my dad is a professor. I recognize the look." She carelessly gestured to his slacks and button-down shirt.

Catching on, Ezra relaxed and dazzled her with a smile of his own. "Should I take that as a compliment or an insult?"

She shrugged and finished her beer. "Take it however you like." She paused for a moment, straining to listen to something behind her. Her face broke into another smile. "God, I love this song."

"B-26?"

"Yes," she admitted bashfully. "I used to listen to it all the time growing up. It was a favorite of mine in high school."

He studied her again, and noticed her dangerously high heels, slim legs, and long luxurious dark hair. "Where did you get that?" he asked suddenly, pointing to her bracelet.

"Nairobi," she supplied, taking off the exquisitely carved piece of wooden jewelry and showing it to him. "I travel a lot with my job."

"What do you do?" he asked, suddenly fascinated with the mysterious woman beside him.

"I guess you could say I'm a freelance writer. And photographer. I go all over the world for stories," she finished, slipping her bracelet back on. Their fingers touched slightly, and Ezra felt a bolt of electricity. He looked at her, but she didn't give any indication that he noticed.

"Like guides for tourists?" he asked, turning his attention back to her face.

"More like _National Geographic_," she replied. "But I'm taking time off to start my own book. A collection of photographs and stories from my travels."

"Why Rosewood?"

"It's home," she replied, visibly holding back a smile. "I grew up here. My dad is here, my friends."

He thought hard for a moment. "Anyone I know?"

She was silent for a moment, her face a blank mask of shock and impassivity. Then she burst into laughter. He looked back at her in shock and discomfort. "I'm sorry," she said when she had calmed down. "I thought you would recognize me. We've met before," she added.

He groaned. "Please don't tell me this is one of those moments where I royally embarrassed myself by not recognizing you."

"No, nothing like that," she reassured him warmly. "I just thought you would remember me. But clearly your memory has become addled with age," she teased. "This was quite a few years ago."

Ezra looked at her again, studied her perfectly manicured nails, unblemished face, beautiful body, and then thought about her warm and playful manner. He shook his head. "I'm sorry," he replied. "I'm drawing a blank. Of course," he added, almost as an afterthought, almost too caught up in the game to notice it earlier, "it would help if I had your name."

"Hmm," she let out playfully, "but that might give it away, and how would you feel then?"

"First name?" Ezra suggested hopefully.

She thought about it for a moment. "Aria," she said softly. When he didn't react, she drew herself closer to him. "No bells?"

"None," he admitted shamefully.

"Well, then," she said meeting his gaze. He licked his lips in response. "I guess you won't mind when I do this." She drew her voice back into a whisper as her lips met his.

He hadn't expected the response that his body gave or her reaction. She melted into him and he rested his hands on her waist. She was so small and dainty. And she felt perfect in his arms. When she broke off the kiss, he hungrily captured her lips again in his, not ready to let her go quite yet.

"Wow," she said when it was over. "I wasn't expecting…."

"Yeah, me neither," he interjected. He looked around him. "You want to get out of this place?"

She tilted her head. "You really want to?"

"Of course," replied Ezra, hoping that she didn't see the blatant hope and expectation on his face. Or the raw desire.

She slowly nodded her assent. "Then let's go," she whispered. He grabbed her hand and led her out the door and into the cool night air. She smiled shyly as he led her to his car. Slightly amazed at the amount of trust she had in him, Ezra put the car into gear and began the drive to his home.

* * *

"A typewriter?" asked Aria with a tilt of her head and arch of her eyebrow. She delicately touched the machine and ran her fingers over the buttons.

He shrugged. "I like to remember that there was literature before computers."

"An English professor," she let out, turning to him.

"Did you know that about me too?" he asked.

"Well, I think the James Joyce collection on your bookshelf kind of gave it away." She giggled as she revealed the fact, causing him to smile.

He handed her a drink-brandy-before leading her to the brown leather sofa on the edge of the living room. She took it gratefully as he continued the conversation. "Don't tell me you don't like Joyce."

She took a sip of her drink as shook her head. "On the contrary. I love Ireland and all things Irish. I was there six months ago as a matter of fact. Stopped by the hotel. You know, the one in Dublin where Gabriel and Gretta stay at the end of _The Dead_."

"I bet it was amazing," he said softly.

"It was," she agreed, "but it was cold and rainy. I preferred the sun in India compared to the drizzle of Ireland."

"So what's your favorite place?" he asked, intrigued. "From everywhere you've traveled?"

"Would it be silly and childish of me to say home?" she asked, a smile in her voice and eyes.

"Would it be silly and childish of me to say there have got to be more exciting places than Rosewood?" he returned.

She laughed softly. "Reykjavik," supplied Aria. "I spent some time there with my dad after my mom died. It's become like a second home."

"It bet its beautiful."

"It is. I try to go back as often as I can. I've got a trip scheduled there in a few months." She paused and then arched an eyebrow. "I see what you're doing. You're trying to get me to spill my guts to see if you remember me." She shook her head and clicked her tongue. "That's just rude."

"Would you rather me not remember you?"

"I would rather you have recognized me the first time," retorted Aria as she put her drink on the table and drew her legs underneath her, slipping her shoes off in the process.

"How about we don't talk?" asked Ezra suggestively, instinctively sliding himself closer to the petite woman.

She studied him warily for a moment and then looked at the wooden staircase behind her and then back at him. "I don't sleep with someone on the first date," she told him bluntly.

"So this is a date?" he teased, leaning his body closer to hers.

"You know, women like to be wooed," she said as he began tracing her eyebrow with his finger.

"You should have thought of that before you refused to tell me your last name," he whispered.

"Maybe I should have," she admitted quietly as his fingers wandered to the top of her blouse.

"Yeah, maybe," he mumbled as he kissed her. She responded in kind, as hungrily as him. And he pulled her closer and closer to the edge of passion, showing her his wants and desires. And Aria let him.

* * *

When Aria woke up the next morning, she was nestled comfortably on the couch and semi-aware of the fact that Ezra had covered her with a blanket sometime in the middle of the night. She looked around the living room and noticed he wasn't there and had probably gone up to spend the night in his room. Sighing, she grabbed her shoes and purse from under the coffee table and quietly walked out the front door.

She let out a breath of relief at the sound of Ezra's front door closing behind her. She took a moment to appreciate his home with its blue shutters and wrap-around porch before thinking about what exactly had gone on last night. She still couldn't believe that she had gotten away with him not recognizing her. She couldn't believe he hadn't recognized her in the first place. Ten years wasn't such a long time, was it?

Maybe it was, she reasoned during her walk home. Maybe ten years makes a difference in recognizing the familiar, in changing a person's personality completely. But still. She didn't know whether to be appreciative or offended at the fact that he saw her as a woman he picked up in a bar. Turning onto a familiar street, she sighed and took in the picture of her childhood home on the corner.

As quietly as she could, she got her keys out and opened the door, taking her shoes off when she reached the entryway. Silently closing the door, she began to tiptoe up the stairs, stumbling when a voice caught her off guard.

"And where were you last night?" asked Byron Montgomery primly from his spot in the dining room where he sat drinking his morning coffee and reading the newspaper despite the earliness of the hour.

Rolling her eyes, Aria reluctantly retraced her steps back to the first floor and looked at her father. "We agreed we wouldn't have these conversations," she reminded him a sing-song voice. "You're not allowed to ask me where I spent the night, and I'm not allowed to ask you about other…things," she finished delicately.

"Well, the other things as you so kindly put it don't exist," said Byron sharply. "Besides, the agreement was that you would tell me when you were spending the night out."

Aria let out a deep breath. "Well, it just kind of happened, okay? I was at the bar waiting for Spencer, and I saw someone I knew from high school, and, well, I didn't get a chance to call."

Byron sighed in acceptance. "Just remember to call or text next time. You didn't even have to tell me who you're with. Just say you're with Spencer. Okay?"

Aria nodded her head. "Okay," she reluctantly agreed. "I need a few more hours of sleep, and then I'll come down and make lunch for us. Okay?" she asked her father.

"Okay," he replied. "Honey," he called out after his daughter.

"Yes," she replied trying to keep the frustration out of her voice.

"I love you."

"I love you too, Dad," she cried back as she ran up the stairs.

Shaking his head, Byron listened as he footsteps thudded against the hardwood floor and her bedroom door was shut with a sudden crack as wood hit wood. Whoever it was that had caught her attention was obviously someone special.

* * *

**FYI: **

**Ella died when Aria was sixteen. **

**There is no Mike. **

**Byron is a better, kinder person than he is in the TV series. **


	3. Chapter 2

**I do not own PLL.**

* * *

"You abandoned me!" exclaimed Aria when she saw her friend sitting at The Brew with a cup of coffee in her hand.

"Well, hello to you," responded Spencer dryly. "I sent you a text that I wasn't going to be able to make it the other night."

Aria rolled her eyes. "Just because you're boyfriend wanted to make-out doesn't mean that you needed to abandon me."

"I called you around eleven and you didn't answer. Did you meet someone?" asked Spencer slyly.

Aria sighed. "If we're going to have this conversation then I need to get myself a cup of coffee."

"So something did happen. Spill," squealed Spencer.

Aria ignored her pleas and got up to order a latte. She was looking at the pastries on display when a voice cried out. "Aria, I didn't know you were in town."

"Zack," she exclaimed with a smile towards the older man. "I didn't know you were going to be at work today. I thought you took Mondays off." She warmly hugged the man and he ruffled her hair affectionately.

"Listen, if you have time while you're home, I'd like to meet and catch up," he offered hopefully.

"I'm actually going to be home for about six months. I finally that got that book deal."

"That's awesome news. You know," he continued, gesturing around the coffee house, "I display all the pictures you sent me. If you have any more, please send them my way."

"I noticed," admitted Aria with a smile. "But seriously, you didn't have to do that, Zack."

Zack motioned his hand in a gesture of dismissal. "What's the point of owning a place like this if I can't show off my stepdaugther's work?"

Their conversation was interrupted by sight of a coffee cup placed in front of Aria. She leaned over the counter to give the cashier a bill but Zack stopped her. "You know better," he admonished her. "It's on the house."

Aria smiled. "Thanks Zack. I'll text you about getting together?"

"Sure thing, Aria."

Aria grabbed her coffee and headed back over to Spencer who was studying her intently. "Is it ever awkward for you?" she asked.

"Is what ever awkward?" returned Aria, feigning ignorance.

"Seeing your mother's husband like that, thinking of you as family."

"Zack and I are family."

"Oh, come on, Aria. You and Zack…he's not even old enough to be your real father."

"He's not my father, but he's family," said Aria firmly. "He has been since I was twelve. Besides, awkward would have been when I was home for Thanksgiving three years ago, and he celebrated it with me and my dad. And it actually wasn't awkward at all."

Spencer scrunched up her face. "Why would he do that?"

Aria shrugged. "It was one of the few times I was home in the last ten years, and we were reviving a tradition from when my mom was alive. And anyway," she continued lightly, "you need to stop being such a psychology professor."

"But I am a psychology professor," whined Spencer. She pouted for a moment before lightening her expression. "Fine. I'll stop being a psych professor and be a girl friend. So who was the guy you met last night?"

"Spencer," groaned Aria.

"Thought you were going to get away without telling me, didn't you?" replied Spencer smugly.

"Fine," let out Aria. "He was sitting at the bar, and I was alone, so I offered to buy him a drink. But then he bought me a drink instead. Then we started talking, and then he kissed me. Then we made our way to his house. Then I woke up the next morning, walked home, and listened to my dad lecture me, all right?"

"You spent the night?" howled Spencer.

"Well, I didn't sleep with him," responded Aria defensively. "We made out on his couch, and I slept there."

"What's he like?" asked Spencer, eyes gleaming.

"Umm," Aria thought for a moment. "He's tall and has dark hair and blue eyes. He likes Joyce and has a typewriter in his living room. He was nice."

"You spent the night at his house, and all you can say is that he was nice?" exclaimed Spencer.

"Fine," said Aria setting her jaw. "He was nearly perfect. And, Spencer," she let the mask fall for a moment before continuing, "he owns the old Wellington house. Remember how we said we were going to live there when we grew up?" She fluttered her eyelashes dreamily.

"Does this nearly perfect man have a name?" asked Spencer, finally calm, taking a sip of her coffee.

Aria chewed the inside of her lip before answering. "I'm not telling you that."

"And why not?" demanded Spencer.

"He's about seven years older than I am," she admitted, "and I knew him before I moved away from Rosewood. But Spencer," she let frustration, "he doesn't recognize me."

"Is that a bad thing?" asked Spencer quietly. "You aren't the same person you were ten years ago, grieving the loss of your mother. You've-you've grown into yourself. You're well-traveled and well-read and confident." She shrugged. "Just go with it."

Aria glared at her friend. "When did you become wiser than me?"

Spencer lifted her coffee cup up in a mock toast. "It comes with the age difference, my dear."

"Oh, come on, Spence, seventeen months isn't that big of an age difference!"

The older woman merely laughed in response.

* * *

Ezra sighed as he listened to the dean go over procedure and outline changes that were coming with the new semester. He was trying his hardest not to nod off-or worse, slip into a daydream about the mysterious woman he met at the bar. He had unsuccessfully tried to stop thinking about her for the last twenty-four hours, particularly when he realized she had disappeared without giving him a number-or a last name. But she knew where he lived. He supposed that meant she was responsible for tracking him down if she was interested.

He hoped she was because he suddenly had the urge to kiss her senseless again.

Suddenly, the person in the auditorium seat next to him nudged him. He looked up into Spencer's knowing gaze. Ducking his head, he grinned sheepishly and pretended to take notes about what the dean was saying.

Several minutes later, he saw a paper placed over his doodles. It was a note from Spencer.

_What's up with you today?_

_Nothing. _

_Really? I think something or someONE is on your mind. _

_ Nope _

_ It's a girl isn't it?_

_ No_

_ I bet it is. Her name?_

_Leave me alone _

_ Give me a name _

_No_

_ What's she like?_

_ We should pay attention _

_ Spill _

Ezra shook his head and ignored Spencer's pokes and prods. Normally, they were the best of friends. It came from a camaraderie that stemmed from being two of the youngest professors at Hollis. But right now, he was in no mood for Spencer to be diving into his personal life. It was bad enough that she had been trying to set him up-rather unsuccessfully-for the last year. The only successful relationship his friendship from Spencer had produced was a bromance with her boyfriend, Toby, who had helped him do some work to repair his house. Actually, Spencer had termed it a bromance; Ezra just thought he and Toby just got along exceptionally well.

Now that he thought of it, he should thank Spencer and Toby. If Toby had shown up at the bar the night he met Aria, he might not have met Aria in the first place.

Grinning wryly at the fact that his thoughts were constantly circling around Aria, he turned his attention back to the dean who was, thankfully, finishing his speech. When the faculty was dismissed, Ezra stretched his legs and picked up his notepad.

"Are you going to tell me who she is?" asked Spencer behind him.

"Geez, Spencer, give a guy a break," he replied, beginning the walk to his office. She fell into step beside him.

"Will you at least tell me her name?" sighed Spencer.

He was silent for a moment, considering. "Aria," he finally said.

"What's she like?"

Ezra rolled his eyes. "Well-traveled. Loves literature. Beautiful," he added softly.

"Going to see her again?"

"She didn't leave me her number," he told her, his expression obliviously forlorn.

"Maybe she'll find you," replied Spencer hopefully.

"Maybe," he echoed. "But she seem offended that I didn't recognize her, like we had met before."

"Had you?" asked Spencer as they turned a corner.

"She says we did several years ago."

"But it's not ringing any bells," finished Spencer for him. " I understand." They stopped talking for a moment when they reached the door to his office. "Don't give up, Ezra. I have a good feeling about this."

"If you say so," he replied dismally.

"I do," giggled Spencer as she continued the trek down the hallway and around the corner to her own office.

Ezra opened the door to his office, greeted with the sight of a mountain of paperwork that sat on his desk. He groaned and temporarily dismissed thoughts of the beautiful dark-haired woman that had recently occupied his mind.

* * *

Byron was welcomed home to the aroma tomato sauce, bread, and garlic. "Are you making dinner, Aria?" he called out as he set his briefcase in the entryway and began to rifle through the mail that had been left for him on the small table by the door.

"Yes," she called back, exiting the kitchen to give her father a kiss on the cheek. "It'll be ready in about fifteen minutes. How was your first day of the semester?"

"Good," he grunted as he eyed his daughter suspiciously. "Why did you cook? Are you trying to butter me up for something?"

Aria laughed and waved away his misgivings. "No, I was working today, and I decided to take a break and not think about anything but my stomach for a while. Go on," she urged Byron, "by the time you change and go through the mail, dinner'll be ready."

Looking at the mess Aria had made of living room, moving the furniture to the edges of the room and covering the entirety of the floor space with photographs and computer paper, Byron shook his head and did as he was bid. By the time he returned having traded in his slacks and tie for jeans and a t-shirt, read the mail, and even paid the water bill, Aria had finished setting the table.

"Dig in," Aria urged him as he looked down at his plate.

"This is your mom's pasta recipe."

"Yeah," she agreed ruefully. "I was missing her."

"What brought all of this on?"

Aria shuffled her food around her plate before answering. "I ran into Zack at The Brew today."

"And? I thought you like Zack."

"I do," she reassured him. "But seeing Zack just made me think of Mom, and he's been so nice to me since she died. He hangs the pictures I send him in The Brew."

"I know. I've seen the inside," replied Byron. He took a bite of his food while Aria visibly debated what to say next.

"Even though it's not a holiday," began Aria hesitantly, "I wondered if you would mind Zack coming over for dinner sometime next week. I think he's lonely, and it would be nice to chat with him," she finished hurriedly.

"By all means, invite him," Byron told her.

"Thank you." He was rewarded with a warm smile.

"Honey, I know that you'll always think of Zack as family. He loved your mom, and he loves you."

"Doesn't it bother you sometimes?" Aria blurted. "Mom was married to you first."

"She married him years after we got divorced. And your Mom and I were never meant to be married. We were always better off as very good friends and parents to you."

"Sorry," let out Aria. "I guess Spencer just got to me."

"Spencer's a psychologist. She gets to everyone," joked Byron.

"There was one other thing I wanted to ask you."

"Yes?"

"Do you think I would be able to use Hollis's darkroom? I'm not quite sure how many more pictures I need to develop for my book, but it would be nice to know the equipment was available if I needed it."

"I don't see why not. I'll make sure Professor Adamson is okay with it tomorrow." He paused, but when Aria continued to eat silently, he prodded. "What else did you want to ask me?"

Aria let out a deep breath. "Would it bother you if I dated someone who was older than me?"

"How much older?" asked Byron suspiciously.

"About seven years."

He relaxed. "I wouldn't have a problem with that."

"Even if I knew them before I became an adult?"

"Do you want to tell who this mysterious man is?"

Aria pursed her lips. "Not yet," she admitted. "Not until I'm sure it'll work out."

"Then we can cross that bridge when we get there."

Aria nodded in agreement, and Byron studied his daughter from across the table. Her body was present, but her mind seemed a million miles away.

* * *

**Zach is a good person in this story. He genuinely loves Aria and loved Ella. **


	4. Echoes

_It was the first time she had really spoken up all semester, he noted. The dark-haired girl sat towards the back of the classroom, one row over from the windows diligently doing her work most of the time. And her work was impeccably done if done quietly. He had heard stories about her, about how her mom had died in an accident. He didn't know her well, know if these things were true or not. But she moved like someone who had suffered a great loss. So he had left her alone. _

_ But now she was talking. She was asking about innocence and the nature of love. It was one of the most thoughtful-and the most stimulating-things he had heard from any of his students. He referred to the book in front of them as he responded. He could see that she was annoyed by the fact that he wasn't answering her question specifically enough, using the text to cover up his own insecurities at being a first-year teacher being asked a difficult question. _

_ She accepted his answer and deferred from making a response. Instead, she wrote a few things in her notebook. He forgot about her as another, more talkative student, wanted to make a different point and said it loudly and then as another student argued that point. _

_ Soon the discussion evolved from questions about love to theories about death. What was the opposite of love? he asked. Hate, said one student. Disgust, said another. Indifference, she said. And why do we mourn the death of those we love? he asked a little while later. It hurts, said one student. It's final, said another. It's the absence of hope, she replied. Then what is hope? he asked. Believing, said one student. Love, said another. Faith, she responded. _

_ That conversation was a hazy memory now, nearly forgotten on the edge of consciousness. Still, it lingered in the back of his mind waiting for him to recall it, to remember, to summon what he couldn't quite let go of. _


	5. Chapter 3

**I do not own PLL.**

* * *

"Howdy," said a voice, breaking Ezra's concentration as he sat working in his Hollis office.

He looked up and his face broke into a smile. "Don't tell me you've been to Texas too."

Aria laughed and walked towards his desk. "Actually, I have. I spent some time taking pictures of the Border Wall there before traveling to Mexico."

"Seriously? You've been everywhere, and now you're bringing me coffee?" he let out, gesturing to the Styrofoam cup and paper bag she held in her hands.

"Maybe," she teased placing them on his desk before taking the seat opposite. "It's from The Brew."

"You have good taste," he said appreciatively. "I love the coffee at The Brew."

"Well, then you're in luck," she told him as he took a bite of the pastry in the paper bag. "I know the owner."

"You know everything," he responded half-seriously. "You even knew where to find me."

She giggled and arched an eyebrow in response. "I told you I know things about you."

"You aren't stalking me, are you?" he asked in mock horror. She shook her head. "Good. Because this coffee is great."

"Just the coffee is great, huh?" she asked playfully. "If that's all I'm good for, maybe I'd better leave." She made a move to get up just as he grabbed her and pulled her next to him on the desk.

"Maybe not all," he admitted inching his face towards hers. He kissed her passionately and she responded in kind before she pulled away.

"This is a very tempting offer," she told him seriously, "but I have a meeting with Professor Adamson in a few minutes."

He reluctantly pulled away as she perched herself on the edge of his desk. "About what?" he asked curiously. "Surely, she can't offer anything better than I can."

Aria laughed. "Well, I'm pretty sure you can't offer me a darkroom, and she can."

"So that's what this is about? Is it for that book you told me about?"

"Sure is," she chirped. "And with the amount of work I have in front of me, I'll be visiting it often."

"Well, that's good," he replied. She tilted her head in disbelief. "It means you can visit me at Hollis more often," he explained.

She smiled at him warmly. "I guess it does." He studied her hard for a moment. "Still don't recognize me?" she asked lightly.

"No," he replied honestly. "I still don't."

"Your loss," she answered jumping off the edge of his desk. She grabbed her purse and made a move to head back out the door.

"Have I at least earned your last name?" he asked, calling out behind her.

She turned to him. "Not my name. But you have earned something."

"Your age?"

"Twenty-eight," she told him softly before turning back around.

"Do you want to know how old I am?"

"But I already know," she replied, leaning against the doorframe lazily. "Thirty-five."

"Do you know that I want to take you to dinner?"

"When?" she asked.

"Friday," he told her gently. "Seven-thirty? My house?"

Aria smiled and nodded. "See you then, Ezra."

She walked out of his office and Ezra sat back on his chair and sipped his coffee happily. She had found him after all.

* * *

"Your father told me about your project, dear," Professor Adamson told her excitedly. "I think it's just wonderful."

"I'm so glad that you're letting me use your facilities. It's going to make my work so much better. Are you sure you don't mind?"

"No at all, dear," the white-haired woman assured her. "I was just, um, well…" she faltered.

"Yes," encouraged Aria.

"Well, I was hoping you wouldn't mind speaking to one or two of my classes. About your travels, your career. It's very inspiring."

"I wouldn't mind at all, Professor Adamson," Aria agreed heartily.

"Wonderful," the older woman beamed. "But, Aria, you must agree to call me Caroline."

"All right, Caroline."

"Well, I think this will work out very nicely, dear," Professor Adamson let out happily. "There are the smocks, and the developer is under the sink, now when the darkroom is in use you have to flip this switch because…."

* * *

"He asked me out, Spence," said Aria over the phone. She was sitting on her bed and staring at an old poster that she had hung up on her wall.

"Who? Mr. Mysterious from the bar?"

"Yes," replied Aria. "And seriously, I can hear the sarcasm from across town. There's no need to be like that."

"Sorry," replied her friend. "When?"

"Friday."

"Where?"

"His house."

"Is the date at his house or is he taking you somewhere?" asked Spencer.

"Not sure," admitted Aria as she turned to look outside her window.

"Are we excited about this?"  
"I think so," replied Aria.

"What are you going to wear?"

"I'm not sure. Any suggestions?"

Spencer was silent for a moment before she responded. "What about that dress you got in Italy with the red flowers? It's perfect for just about any occasion."

"How do you know about that dress?" asked Aria suspiciously.

"You posted a picture of it on Facebook."

"Oh."

"And wear sexy heels with it," finished Spencer happily.

"Why does it sound like you want me to get laid?" questioned Aria.

"Maybe I do," she answered simply. Aria was silent in response. "Aria Montgomery," shrieked Spencer over the phone, "are you admitting that you want to get laid?"

"I'm not saying yes, but I'm not saying no, either," admitted Aria.

"You like him," let out Spencer in a sing-song voice.

"Hanging up now," Aria told her.

"No, No," pleaded Spencer. "Let me know how it goes."

"Fine," said Aria resignedly before pressing the end call button. "Talk to you later."

Aria leaned back into her bed and groaned. She hoped Friday went well.

* * *

"So where are you taking Aria out on Friday?" taunted Spencer.

Ezra, who had been taking a sip of his beer, nearly spewed the contents all over the table before recovering. "How do you know about that?" he demanded.

"I have my ways," replied Spencer mysteriously. She giggled in delight before reaching for another slice of pizza.

"How do you put up with her?" Ezra asked Toby who was sitting next to him at the round kitchen table.

"Pretend to agree with everything she says," he answered sedately.

Spencer rolled her eyes at her boyfriend before turning her attention back at Ezra. "So where are you going?"

"You know," replied Ezra, "the point of having pizza and beer at my house is to have pizza and beer at my house and not discuss my love life."

"No it's not," chirped Spencer. "Spill."

"Well, I thought about taking her to a nice restaurant in Philly."

"Good," said Spencer."

"But then I thought she might want to go the photography exhibit at the Wilson Museum."

"Better," replied Spencer.

"But then I thought a first date here in Rosewood, at one of the café's or something might be nice."

"Much better."

"But then I thought maybe dinner here might be less stressful."

"Yes?"

"But I can't cook."

"No, you can't," echoed Spencer unnecessarily.

"So then I thought about ordering in and watching a movie."

"What movie?"

"_Chinatown_?" he suggested hopefully.

"No," said Spencer definitively. "It has to be _Casablanca_. It's so romantic, and I don't know a girl who doesn't love that movie."

"Fine. And we can stay here and watch _Casablanca_. It's low-key, low-stress, and she's already here in case she decides to stay over."

"Ezra Fitz!"

"I'm just kidding, Spencer," he said. "Mostly," he added under his breath.

"I heard that," she admonished.

"What about you, Toby?" asked Ezra. "Any suggestions?"

Toby shook his head lazily. "Nah, man. You seem to have it under control."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," said Ezra happily.

"Just one question," continued Toby nonchalantly.

"What is it?"

"Do you like this girl?"

Ezra sighed and then admitted. "Very much."

Toby nodded. "Then you have it under control, like I said."

"Of course he does," broke in Spencer, "Because he can call me if he needs anything."

Toby and Ezra share a look before turning their attention back to Spencer. "No offense, Spence," drawled Ezra. "But if I need anything, I'm not calling my friend the control freak."

"Who are you calling a control freak?" demanded Spencer. "I am not a control freak," she insisted. The men burst into laughter at her admonition as Spencer tried, and failed, to defend herself.

* * *

Toby glanced at Spencer, happily staring out the window of his truck, before turning his attention back on the road. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" he asked her suddenly.

"Why wouldn't it be a good idea?" she returned sedately. "They're perfect for each other."

He shook his head. "Too much meddling is never good for a relationship."

Spencer rolled her eyes. "I would hardly call what they're doing a relationship. They're just…getting to know each other."

"He is not going to be happy when he figures out who she is," replied Toby as he turned his blinker on and turned the corner. "And what about her, isn't it…awkward?"

"Nope," said Spencer, popping the p. "She is not the same person she used to be. And she wants to come home, she needs a reason to come home. After her mom died…anyway, if she doesn't have a more serious reason than that book of hers six months from now she'll leave again."

"Are you sure she wants to stay?" asked Toby seriously. "She's always loved to travel."

Spencer was silent for a moment before responding. "You should have seen her with Zack the other day. She had missed him while she was gone. And the way she talks about her dad. Ever since his failed second marriage while she was in college, she wants to be there for him."

Toby mulled over his girlfriend's words for a moment before asking her. "Are you sure you aren't doing this because you want Aria to stay in Rosewood?"

"That would be nice," admitted Spencer reluctantly, "but," she continued brightly, "you have to admit that Ezra is kind of perfect for her."

"Even after the whole Jackie thing?"

"Especially after the whole Jackie thing."

Toby shrugged and then stated. "Just remember if this goes badly it was your idea to set them up." He pulled into the parking lot of Spencer's apartment complex and she kissed him soundly before jumping out of the truck and heading inside the building.

Sighing, Toby put his truck in reverse and then drove back onto the main road to his own home. Spencer was his soul mate, but there were times when he wondered exactly what he was thinking. She loved to get into everyone else's heads, but never let anybody else get into hers. It was frustrating as was the fact that she was manipulating their friends into falling in love-a romantic notion but hardly practical. Then he wondered if it really could work despite the pitfalls the past offered. Because Spencer was right about one thing. Aria and Ezra really did seem perfect for each other.


	6. Chapter 4

** I do not own PLL. Thanks for the reviews. Please keep them coming!**

* * *

Aria knocked on Ezra's front door tentatively and hoped she was dressed appropriately. She was wearing the dress Spencer had suggested but decided to wear sandals instead of heels and put some beaded earrings from Brazil in her ears. When Ezra answered the door, Aria saw that he was dressed nicely, if a little less formal than she, in a button down shirt and jeans.

"Come in," he greeted. She entered, giving him a peck on the cheek before thrusting the package in her arms his way.

"What's this?" he asked turning the package over in his hands and leading her into the living room.

"Open it. I thought you would like a copy since we were talking about it the other night." Aria looked at him shyly, hopefully urging him to open it.

When he did, there was a sharp intake of breath. "You took this?" he asked in awe.

She nodded. "Yup. Told you I was in Dublin. I thought you might like to put it next to your copy of _The Dubliners._"

"It's beautiful," he told her softly, setting it on his bookshelf. "Is this what all your pictures look like?"

She shrugged nonchalantly. "It's what I do for a living."

"Well I'm impressed," he admitted. "All I do for my living is teach unappreciative students how to make their writing suck less."

His response elicited a giggle and she smiled. "I'm sure not all your students fill that way." Stopping in mid-thought, she sniffed and tilted her head to the side. "Is that Chinese?"

"Yeah, I got us some take out. I thought we could stay in tonight and watch a movie."

"What movie?" she asked him suspiciously, her eyes narrowed.

"_Casablanca_," he replied slowly.

Her face broke out into a smile. "That's perfect. How did you know?"

"Know what?" he asked as she followed him into the kitchen.

"That that's my favorite movie," she told him happily. "If I didn't know any better, I would have thought you were a stalker."

"I'm the stalker?" he laughed pointing to himself. "I thought that was you."

"Me?" she exclaimed. "Just because I know that you're allergic to pecans does not make me a stalker," quipped Aria. "I just have my ways."

They both laughed over that as they grabbed the cardboard cartons and settled back down into his living room. Aria took off her shoes and tucked her legs underneath her as Ezra started the movie.

As the credits rolled Aria told him, "You know, the last guy I went out with took me dinner in Paris."

"Oh," said Ezra softly.

She scrunched her face up. "It was awful. He was so prim and proper and concerned about appearances. And he made me eat snails! I faked a phone call in the middle of it to get away."

"This isn't Paris," replied Ezra hesitantly.

"No it isn't," agreed Aria. "It's better," she reassured him. Suddenly, Humphrey Bogart appeared on screen, and she turned her attention to the film. Ezra looked at her a moment before following suit. She was a truly remarkable woman.

They didn't watch the movie straight through. Instead, Aria constantly broke into conversation, asking him this question or that, analyzing the motivation of the characters. It was a game he enjoyed and he played along. At one point they had paused the movie for half-in-hour too engrossed in a conversation about love to notice their forgotten food on the coffee table.

"But he loves her," wailed Aria. "And she loves him too. They should so be together."

"But it's the wrong thing to do," shot back Ezra. "The best thing he can do for her is leave her alone."

"But she doesn't want to be left alone," insisted Aria. "She wants what they had in Paris."

"They both know too much to go back to what they had to in Paris."

Aria glared at him. "Now, you're just killing it. Why do you have to take the side of the moral high ground?" she grumbled.

"Because it's the right thing to do," he answered. Aria pouted, and Ezra laughed. Suddenly she broke into a smile and turned her attention back to the T.V.

"Just play the movie already," she told him with a smile and shake of her head. "We could be here all night if we keep going on like this."

He complied, and soon their attention was turned back on the screen. But by the end of the movie, when Ezra turned to ask Aria something, he saw that her head on his shoulder, which he had been acutely aware of, was in a position of deep sleep. As quietly as he could, Ezra set her on the couch and covered her with a blanket. She rolled over into a more comfortable position in her sleep, and he smiled.

Grabbing the empty cartons, Ezra disposed of them in the kitchen before walking upstairs to his own bedroom. Unprovoked, Ezra looked around the bare masculine room and wondered what it would like with a woman's touch, with Aria's. With her photos framed and hanging on the wall. Shaking his head, he scolded himself. It was much too early in the relationship to be thinking about things like that.

As he got ready for bed, Ezra told himself he would make her pancakes in the morning. Suddenly remembering his last attempt at cooking, he decided that coffee and pastries were probably the better option. He set his alarm so that he would be up before she would. As he drifted off to sleep, his thoughts drifted toward Paris.

The next morning Ezra woke up and went to The Brew. When he came back she was gone, just like she had been the last time, despite not having come in her own car. He suddenly wondered where she lived. Spotting a piece of paper on the coffee table, he walked toward it. His disappointment instantly dissipated when he realized she had left him her phone number.

* * *

"In here," cried Aria at Spencer's call.

The older woman walked in the Montgomery living room and gasped slightly at the sight before her. "What a mess!"

"Oh, it's not so bad," waved off Aria from her spot in the center of the floor. "It's a disorganized mess." She grouped pictures together carefully and then added a sheet of paper to the file before standing up and surveying her work.

"If you say so," said Spencer, unconvinced. She looked at some of the photographs scattered on the floor and sighed. "You really are talented."

"Thanks," beamed Aria. "I have a meeting with my publishers on Wednesday. They want a specific outline on my plans for the project."

"Hence, the mess," connected Spencer. "You worried?"

"Not really," Aria told her truthfully. "But you didn't come here to ask about my book did you?"

"Of course not," agreed Spencer as the pair headed to the kitchen. " I came to ask how everything went with Mr. Mysterious."

Aria smiled dreamily as she poured two cups of coffee. "It was wonderful," she admitted dreamily.

"Do you think, maybe?" began Spencer uncertainly.

"Think maybe what?"  
"Could he be the one?" she finished in a rush. Aria paused for a moment. "Really?" said Spencer with a brow raised at the answer.

"He could be," she said quietly. "It's still too early to tell, and I knew him a long time ago. He didn't like me then, so why does he like me now?"

Spencer rolled her eyes and took a sip of her coffee. "I told you, you're not the same person you were ten years ago."

"Maybe. He still hasn't figured out how we met the first time."

"Are you going to tell him?"

"Not yet," Aria admitted. "Maybe not ever. It's not important."

"Are you going to tell me who he is?" prodded Spencer.

"Definitely not," answered Aria with a laugh that was fueled by the disappointed look in Spencer's face.

* * *

"Come on just answer the question," pushed Aria.

"No," responded Ezra seriously.

"It's not that hard of a question," she whined.

"Yes it is."

"Not it's not."

"Yes, it is."

Their childish argument was temporarily delayed by the waitress who set down their orders at the small table they were sharing at one of Rosewood's sidewalk cafes.

Aria took a bight of salad before continuing. "Hemingway or Fitzgerald?"

" You cannot compare the two!" insisted Ezra. "One is not better than the other."

Aria looked at him, and he caved. "Fine," sighed Ezra. "I think _The Great Gatsby _is one of the best pieces of literature I have ever read. Happy?"

"That you finally gave me an answer? Of course," chirped Aria happily.

"My turn," he said suddenly.

"Fine," she agreed as she sipped her water.

"Film or Digital?"

"Film."

"Paris or London?"

"London," said Aria after a moment's consideration.

"Poetry or Prose?"

"Prose."

"Your last name?"

"Figure it out," responded Aria serenely.

Ezra sat back in frustration. "You have given me very few personal details to work with."

"Few?" Aria raised an eyebrow. "I've given you a lot of information." She began to count the facts with her fingers. "I'm twenty-eight. I'm writing a book. I'm a photographer. My mother died. I lived in Reykjavik with my father. _Casablanca _ is my favorite movie. The guy I dated before you lives in Paris. I have darkroom privileges at Hollis. You have my phone number." She paused. "That's a lot of facts. Still can't figure it out?"

Ezra shook his head in defeat. "No."

Aria shrugged. "It's not that big of a deal. I'm just having fun making you squirm."

"Come on," he coaxed. "Just one detail about your family. Who they are."

Aria considered a moment before leaning forward. "You ready?" she asked conspiratorially. He nodded. "The owner of The Brew, Zack, is my stepfather."

Ezra sat back. "Really? That's why you're always getting coffee and pastries there."

Aria smiled. "What can I say? I have connections." She concentrated back on her food as Ezra looked at her.

"I have a younger brother," he offered.

"Really?" asked Aria. "Where does he live?"

"New York."

Aria's eyes suddenly grew wide. "I love New York."

"I grew up there," Ezra admitted. "Mom still lives there when she's in the country anyway."

"I live with my Dad," Aria said suddenly. "Between trips, I live with my dad . So," she continued saucily, "don't ever expect to get an invitation to stay at my place."

"Duly noted," said Ezra with a nod. The conversation between them flowed easily as they continued their meal, and during that time they forgot about the world around them, too intent on focusing on each other.

* * *

"She's not a little girl anymore," stated Zack unnecessarily as he watched Aria clear the dining room table. "Going to all those places by herself."

Byron nodded his head in agreement with the younger man. "She isn't. But I think," he continued softly when Aria was occupied in the kitchen, "that she wants to come home on a more permanent basis."

"Really?" asked Zack, suddenly interested. "She always wanted to leave Rosewood ever since Ella…."

"I know," agreed Byron. "but I think she's starting to learn that she can't run away from her past. Wounds heal in time."

"Did yours?" asked Zack quietly, something heavy implied in his tone.

"Yes."

"How?"

"I had Aria," he explained, "and the knowledge that Ella and I were better off as friends, close friends, but friends all the same. And you," he continued, suddenly referring to something completely different, "have your wounds healed."

"They might never heal," replied Zack, and Byron's gaze flitted down to where he still wore his wedding ring. "But Aria helps, when she's home. She looks so much like Ella."

"She does. And lately," Byron faltered for a moment before he continued, "lately she reminds me of Ella. She's been so happy."

"Any particular reason?" asked Zack.

"She hasn't come home three nights this week."

"Oh," said Zack with understanding, his eyebrow arched. "Is it possible that she's found…"

"It's very likely," finished Byron for him. "And I'm happy for her, but I think she has her own reservations."

"Do you know why?"

Byron shook his head. "She won't tell me."

"Are my two favorite men ready for dessert?" asked Aria in a sing-song voice as she brought out a cheesecake from the kitchen, obliviously smiling at two of the most important people in her life.


	7. Edges

_ He rifled through the newspaper, half-reading the articles in front of him. He should care about the latest political scandal and stock exchanges, but he really didn't. Suddenly, a picture caught his eye. It was a photograph, and he forgot to breathe for a moment. It was of a house behind a tall iron-grated fence framed by border patrol guards on either side. It wasn't a beautiful picture, but it captured something inside him that he couldn't quite describe-forlornness, loss, despair, a breaking point. _

_ The article was also well written by an anonymous member of the Associated Press. It talked about the Guerra family who saved for years to build their dream house only to have the government tell them that it was located on land that would be behind the Texas Border Wall. Although the topic was not one he was inherently interested in, immigration was too messy and impersonal a subject for him to want to delve into anyway, he was pulled into the story, distracted by the power of the words. It was personal somehow, somehow familiar. But he couldn't quite put his finger on the reason why it reminded of something, of someone. _

_ Sighing, he read the article twice before folding up his newspaper and sticking it in the bottom drawer of his desk. He couldn't say why, but he was reluctant to throw it away. So he stored it out of sight until he could figure out what it was about the article that stirred him so much, that got his emotions roiling and heart breaking. _

_ As he graded papers, he tried to forget about that article, that picture, but he couldn't. He kept comparing his students' writing to that of the anonymous AP journalist. Finally, he threw the newspaper away, so upset was he over how much it had affected him. Somewhat settled, he continued his grading. _

_ But something whispered inside of his head, some flame of recognition, of wonder, bringing him to the edge of buried memories. He pushed the thoughts down deeper and became more absorbed in his work, refusing to wonder, to guess, to speculate. He had no time for it now. _


	8. Chapter 5

**I do not own PLL. Thanks for the reviews! Please keep them coming! FYI, this is going to be about ten chapters without all my little inserts.**

* * *

Aria walked quickly toward her father's Hollis office to stop in and say hi before she started working in the darkroom. She had been so busy with her book, and with Ezra, she really hadn't seen him in the last few days.

"Hey, Dad," said Aria quickly popping her head into her father's office. "I came by to let you know I'm going to be working in the darkroom today if you want to come and see some of the things I'm putting in my book," she announced.

Byron looked up from his desk. "Okay, sweetheart. Thanks for the invitation, but I have a pretty lengthy meeting this afternoon, and I don't think I'm going to be able to make it."

"All right," answered Aria. She surveyed her father's office and noticed despite the calming blue and brown touches, there were piles of paperwork everywhere. "You won't be home for dinner, will you?"

He shook his head. "Probably not. I figured you could spend it with Spencer or with the guy you're seeing." He looked at her hopefully. "You don't want to tell me who he is do you?"

Aria shook her head. "Not yet. I should go. Talk to you later."

"Love you," Byron called as she headed out the door.

"Love you too," she called back.

As Aria turned the corner, she bumped into something solid. "Aria," the voice exclaimed. "Were you coming out of the dean's office?"

"Ezra, hi," she said leaning up to give him a peck on the lips. "Yeah I was. I just went by to thank him for allowing me to use the darkroom. I'm actually headed there right now."

"Free for lunch?" he asked hopefully.

She shook her head. "Sorry. I have a deadline, and I need to get these pictures developed to see what I have."

"I thought the meeting with your publishers went well," he said, puzzled.

"Too well," admitted Aria. "Apparently I gave the impression that I have more together than I actually do." She thought for a moment. "I was wondering if you would do me a favor, now that I think about it. The essays that go with these pieces, would you mind looking at them for me? Editing with a critical eye?" She looked up at him hopefully.

He laughed and shook his head. "How could I say no to that face?" he asked. He leaned in and whispered in her ear seductively. "But you owe me."

She laughed quietly and gave him a hard kiss on the lips. "That'll have to hold you over until later." Aria looked down at her watch and then back up at him. "Tomorrow night? They're having a film festival in the park."

He smiled knowingly. "I'll bring the blanket."

"And I'll bring the snacks," she agreed with a smile. "Sorry to kiss and run, but I have to go."

"Yeah, no problem. Call if you need anything," he told her as she walked away. "I'll be on campus all day."

"I will," she promised turning to look back at him and rewarding him with a smile.

He smiled back as she disappeared down the hallway and into the bustling crowd of students and staff.

* * *

Byron heard voices outside his office. Suddenly curious, he stopping working for a moment and strained his ears to listen. It sounded like Aria and…a male voice. Who did it belong to? He closed his eyes and thought for a moment. He thought he heard words like night and favor tossed around.

"Dean Montgomery," the same male voice said hesitantly. Snapping out of his thoughts, Byron looked at the man standing just inside his doorway. "Is this a bad time?"

"Not at all," Byron answered pleasantly. "I was just thinking about my daughter for a moment." He looked at Ezra attentively, thinking furiously.

"Is she okay, sir?"

"Oh, she's fine. No worries. I was just lost in thought." Byron waved away his concerns. "What can I help you with? Please sit down."

As Ezra sat down, he leaned forward. "I actually had a question about a student who wanted to create an interdisciplinary major by combining English lit., journalism, and photography studies. I just wanted to ask you if that's appropriate under university guidelines and what the procedure is for getting her started."

"What's the student's name?" asked Byron, taking out a clean sheet of paper and writing it down.

"Shay Benson," supplied Ezra. "It's a little unconventional of a major, but it's what she is really is passionate about doing."

"I understand," replied Byron, waving away the younger man's doubts and hesitations. "My daughter did a similar major when she was in college, and she has thrived." Finishing his sentence, Byron studied Ezra again before continuing. "I'll look into this for you and get back to you."

"Thank you, sir. I know this will mean a lot to Shay." Ezra thanked the older man and left the office, ambling down the hallway.

Byron watched him go, and sat back in his chair thoughtfully. Closing his eyes and thinking for several moments, he began to connect the pieces together, Aria staying out at night, the mysterious man she was seeing, her reluctance to name him. It all made sense now.

* * *

"Well look who finally showed up for a drink," chortled Ezra as Toby joined him at the bar.

Toby gave him a look that clearly stated he was not amused. "Spencer's having a girl's night and kicked me out."

"So I'm your consolation prize?" joked Ezra. "Nice, dude."

Toby took a sip of his beer. It's not exactly like you've been around a lot lately either," he stated dryly. "You've been so wrapped up in Aria."

"Maybe I have," admitted Ezra ruefully.

"You've known her for what? A month? You guys seem to be getting pretty serious awfully fast."

" Six weeks. And how long did it take you and Spencer?" retorted Ezra as he took a sip of his own beer.

"Seven weeks," said the other man, his voice coated in sarcastic sugary sweetness.

Ezra rolled his eyes. "Right."

Toby chuckled. "I just want to make sure this is the right move for you. You've been alone for a while now. There's no need to rush things."

Ezra mulled over his friend's words for a moment before admitting. "Something did seem kind of off when I talked to Aria the other day. I ran into her at Hollis, and she seemed to be hiding something."

"What do you mean?" asked Toby, an eyebrow raised.

"She was coming out of the dean's office and ran into me, literally. When I asked her what she was doing, she said she was thanking him for letting her use the darkroom."

"Do you think she was lying?"

"Not exactly," Ezra groped for what he wanted to say. "It was more like she wasn't telling me the whole truth."

"You should talk to her about it."

"Maybe," replied Ezra after polishing off his beer. "But I could just be imagining things."

"But what if you're not?" prodded Toby.

"You sound like Spencer," Ezra said with a huff. "Or at least like something she would say."

"Maybe you should talk to her. She is a psychologist. She might…know things. And she's a girl," added Toby almost as an afterthought.

Ezra howled with laughter. "I hope she's a girl or you and I are going to be having one long and serious conversation."

"Hmm," was Toby's stoic reply. "This feels like something out of a Regency novel…Austen maybe. _Emma_, I think."

"And what do you mean by that?"

Toby shook his head. "Ask Spencer. Maybe she'll tell you."

Ezra smiled in exasperation and ordered another beer.

* * *

"Thank you for meeting with me," said Byron appreciatively as he took a seat at the small coffee table.

"No problem," answered Zack. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Aria," Byron told him simply.

The younger man leaned forward in interest. "Is something wrong?"

"No, at least I don't think so," Byron told him hesitantly.

"Byron?" prompted Zack. "What's going on?"

Byron sighed and hung his head before looking back at Zack. "I know who Aria is seeing."

"What's his name?" asked Zack eagerly. "What does he do?"

"Well," said Byron slowly, "he's about seven years older than her."

"That's not an issue, is it?" he asked tentatively.

"No. I don't mind the age difference. It's just well," Byron chuckled sheepishly. "I'm his boss."

"Oh," breathed Zack. "Does that make it awkward?"

"Not particularly. Since he doesn't know that I know about him. And her. And I don't think he knows who she is."

"Why do you think he doesn't know?"

"He wouldn't be able to look me in the eye."

Zack ran his hand through his hair. "Is he someone you would have chosen for Aria? Do you approve?"

"That's not the issue."

"You're not saying something," let out Zack.

"Well," began Byron hesitantly. "Do you remember right after Ella died and the year Aria had. She was so broken and sad?"

Zack leaned forward. "Tell me everything." After Byron did, explaining his own hesitations and appreciations about the whole situation, Zach sighed. "Wow." He took a breath a and swallowed. "So what are going to do about it?"

"Nothing yet," said Byron firmly, "except watch and wait. And make sure she doesn't get hurt too badly."

* * *

Aria adjusted the focus on her camera before readjusting her tripod in an attempt to get the picture just right and capture the late afternoon sun. Leaning in and looking through the lens of her camera, she snapped a picture just before she felt somebody come up behind her.

She giggled as male arms wrapped around her tightly. "Are you taking pictures of my house?" asked Ezra, whispering the question in her ear.

"Maybe," sighed Aria, leaning back into him. "I remember this house when it was falling apart. My dad always thought it was a little creepy, but my mom and I loved it. Old Mrs. Wellington used to own it."

"Yeah, I bought it from her grandson," Ezra explained as he kissed the hollow between her neck and shoulder. "And a friend of mine helped me do some of the repairs. Why are you taking pictures of it?"

"I needed a break from my book," she told Ezra distractedly as he moved his lips to the other side of her neck.

"That bad, huh?"

"Not so much bad as heartbreaking," she said softly. "The subject matter is…hard."

Ezra's arms loosened around her abdomen as when he looked at her and said, "It's it too early for me to tell you I'm in love with you?"

Aria looked back at him thoughtfully, "It's never too early to tell a girl you love her. Unless you're Alejandro from Bogotá who says that to every woman he meets," she added playfully.

"What about we go inside and I show you just how much I love you?" Ezra proposed as he kissed Aria teasingly on the mouth.

Aria smiled contentedly. "Just one more picture, and then I'll meet you inside."

As Ezra walked towards the front door, Aria snapped a couple of more shots of the old Victorian home. As she packed up all of her equipment in preparation to meet Ezra inside, she wondered if people could fall in love without truly knowing everything about the other person. She wondered if the person we are around other people was just a façade or it was the real us. And most of all, as she climbed the steps to open of the front door, she wondered if she was setting herself up for heartbreak and Ezra for an unthinkable, and unwanted, reality.


	9. Chapter 6

**I do not own PLL. Thank you for the reviews! They really mean a lot. I know I haven't posted in a few days. I have been working on this story. **

* * *

The Brew was quiet in spite of the earliness of the hour. There were no customers, save one, rushing to get their coffee orders in on their way to work; there were no baristas, save one, who had come to work.

"So," said Zack, placing the sole coffee order in front of Spencer, "you want to tell me what exactly is going on?"

Spencer, looked up from her seat at one of The Brew's many tables, and eyed the man warily. "What are you talking about?" she asked, taking hold of her coffee cautiously.

Pulling out the seat across from her, Zack sat down and explained. "I know who Aria is seeing. I just don't know why she is seeing him. I know that you know something."

Spencer raised an eyebrow. "And why would I know anything?" she asked, sniffing her coffee before she took a large gulp.

"You know everything that goes on with Aria and everything that goes on at Hollis. I know you know something."

Spencer looked down at the sheet of papers spread out in front of her before her gaze caught Zack's. "That's Aria's business," she deflected.

"Spencer," he half-growled, his voice full of warning. "I open an hour early for you every day so you can sit here and work on whatever it is you're secretly working on, and you can go and psychoanalyze me and whoever you want, but you better give me a reason for Aria's behavior. It's dangerous, what she's doing."

Spencer sighed. "It's not dangerous. She's not hurting anymore. Nobody cares what happened ten years ago. Nobody even cares about the Jackie thing anymore, not that there was any truth to it. She wants to be happy, and she thinks this will make her happy."

"But with everything that's happened," Zack sputtered.

"It's all the more reason," said Spencer calmly. "They're perfect for each other. The girlhood crush has faded, but there are real feelings there."

"She's playing with fire," let out Zack dejectedly. "I don't want to see Aria get hurt."

"She's knows what she's doing." Spencer sighed ruefully. "I think he is the one who is going to get hurt. Hurt and heartbroken."

"You think it will end badly, then?" questioned Zack, running his hand through his hair.

"I think it will end the way that it ends," answered Spencer non-committal. "But I think it's worth a chance."

"To turn into something real?" asked Zack carefully.

"It's already something real. You can see it in the way they talk about each other. But turn into something that is acceptable to society, something that will endure."

Zack shook his head skeptically and looked at the woman across from him. "You're too smart for your own good. You know that?"

Spencer took a sip of her coffee and looked back down at her papers. "So I've been told," she answered dryly.

* * *

"You've been staring at it for almost an hour," Ezra told her from her spot on the floor of his spare bedroom.

"I know," sighed Aria. She shifted her laptop so that it sat on the spot next to her on the floor. "I just don't know what to write. Every time I think of something I want to say, it doesn't feel right when I put it on paper."

Ezra sat down next to her on the floor and looked at the photograph Aria had been staring at. She leaned her shoulder against her head as he studied it with a critical, rather than appreciative, eye.

"Do you think you're too close to the subject matter?" he asked suddenly. "You're writing about orphans you've encountered throughout the world. Do you think this particular story, of this girl who lost her mother, resonates with you?"

Aria shifted so that she was looking at Ezra. "That's why I'm putting together this book," she told him somberly. "I had my dad, but a lot of these kids didn't. They had no one. And people need to know about them."

Ezra sighed. "Then why don't you say that. It's a starting point. A rough one, but it gets to the heart of what you really want to say."

Aria put her head back on Ezra's shoulder and looked at the photo. It was all black and white film bringing out the stark contrasts of light and dark. "I used to think I had nobody even though I had always lived with my dad and it was my mom who was gone. But when I was eighteen someone special reminded me that we don't have to be alone."

"That person deserves a big hug," replied Ezra, kissing the top of her head. "They gave me you."

Aria giggled softly, the musical quality of her voice breaking the tension. "It's already been taken care of."

That sat there for a few more moments, head against shoulder, before Aria straightened, grabbed her laptop, and began typing, black words filling the white page.

* * *

"Dean Montgomery!" exclaimed Professor Adamson when she saw him walk through her classroom door. "Can I help you with something?"

Byron smiled. "Actually Caroline, I wanted to talk to you about that email you sent me. Is this a good time? I preferred to come down here instead of talking in my office."

"Oh, yes. Of course it is," answered the photography teacher excitedly as she moved her arms with great sweeping expressions, gesturing Byron toward her office. Shutting the door behind her, they took a seat in two armchairs.

"I've heard from Aria that her work here has gone exceptionally well. Her publishers are happy with the quality of her work, and she enjoys being here on campus and working with you."

"The students just love her," interjected Professor Adamson eagerly. "She came and gave a talk to my Photograph and Journalism class the other day, and the students were enthralled. They hung on her every word."

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about," said Byron uncomfortably as he shifted in his seat.

"Yes, dear?" prompted the white-haired woman.

"I am hesitant to bring this up because my position with dean conflicts with my interest in being her father, but do you think the rest of the faculty and staff would respond well to your suggestion?"

"Well," began Professor Adamson slowly as she recrossed her legs and rolled back her shoulders, "considering the many years that I have been on this faculty and my advocating this change as well as the fact that it is my idea, yes I think they would respond very well."

Byron sat back in his chair and considered a moment before telling his companion, "I will talk to Aria about it, and see what thinks. The decision is up to her, and as long as the faculty have no problems with it, I have no problems either."

"Wonderful!" chirped Professor Adamson. "I think that everything is falling into place nicely!"

* * *

"Clouds."

"Sky."

"Blue."

"Green."

"Grass."

"Bugs."

"Lightning."

"Lightning?" let out Ezra in exasperation. "How is that the first thing that pops into your mind when you hear the word bugs?"

Aria shrugged. "As in lightning bugs?" she let out slowly. "You know. Kids catch them on summer evenings. I know I did."

Ezra let out a booming laugh. "I never would have thought of that." He shifted subtly so that Aria was now half on his lap instead of next to him on the porch swing.

Aria smiled and then sighed. "This is nice," she said, leaning into him. She surveyed Ezra's backyard from her seat on the porch, the evening light making everything glow orange and yellow. "I wish I had my camera right now. The weather's beautiful too," she continued, oblivious to Ezra's lips on her neck. "I'm surprised the leaves haven't started changing color yet."

"Hmm," mumbled Ezra, his breath tickling the spot behind her ear. "That is nice."

Aria rolled her eyes. "You only have one thing on your mind, don't you?"

"Maybe," he muttered under his breath, but Aria ignored the words and reciprocated his actions, kissing his jaw before turning her attention to his mouth. Before she fully realized it, she was on top of him, and he was groaning in pleasure. Suddenly, the swing rocked suddenly as their weight shifted, and Aria could hear a distinct cough from the other side of Ezra's fence. "I think we're being watched," whispered Ezra.

Aria kissed him thoroughly one last time before she positioned herself next to Ezra instead of on top of him. "Hi, Mrs. Shepherd," she greeted cheerily to the middle-aged woman on the other side of the fence.

"Aria Rose!" clucked Mrs. Shepherd. "If your mother could see you now," she said, shaking her head.

"We'll take it inside," Ezra promised her, glancing at Aria.

"You do that," responded the woman dryly before turning her attention back to trimming her hedges.

The pair waited until Mrs. Shepherd moved to the other side of her yard before they burst out into laughter. "That was bad," giggled Aria hysterically. "We shouldn't have done that."

"But the look on her face was priceless," Ezra shot back. Suddenly, he stopped smiling and cocked his head. "Did I finally learn your last name?" he asked, blatant curiosity in his voice.

"Oh, you didn't get off that easy," said Aria, her smile fading. "It's a last name, but it's not my last name. It's my mom's maiden name. And my middle name."

"When are you going to tell me your last name?" asked Ezra softly. He began to stroke her arm with his finger.

"When I know you won't freak out," she responded. "You know someone in my family really well, and I think it would make you uncomfortable if you found out too soon. Before we know what this is."

"But I think we know what this is," responded Ezra softly. "I love you."

"And I love you," she responded, taking her hand and rubbing his cheek.

"But not yet?" said Ezra dejectedly.

"Not yet," said Aria shaking her head. "Let's just say that you'll thank me later."

Ezra sighed and leaned back so that the swing rocked suddenly. He looked back across the fence at Mrs. Shepherd before turning back to Aria. "Neighbor," he said suddenly, raising an eyebrow.

"House," said Aria, catching onto the game.

"Home."

"Family."

"Wife."

"Husband."

"Dog."

"Kids."

With each word, the pair had become more breathless, until Ezra asked her, his face full of desire, "Do you want to take this inside?"

"Please," begged Aria, following him through the door into the welcoming, and amorous, atmosphere of his house.

* * *

Ezra watched the woman next to him on the couch. Her petite frame looked so small when she slept making her look light she was too slight and weak to fight the troubles that came her way. But the peaceful look on her face, the half-smile and fluttering eyelashes made it seem as if the demons chasing her were suddenly gone, obliterated into nothingness, defeated by will and hope and dreams. Her dreams. He wondered what she dreamt while she was sleeping, what she dreamt while she was waking.

Ezra got up and covered her with a blanket before walking upstairs to his own bedroom. His gaze flicked to the empty rooms, spare bedrooms all of them. In his mind, he could hear the laughter and screams of children. He could hear Aria's voice as she loved them and cherished them. He could see it all in his mind's eye, this perfect future with her.

Sighing, he entered his own empty bedroom, and once again thought about how Aria would look living within the space of the four walls. But this time, he wondered about the dark-haired children that climbed into bed, snuggling between their parents in the middle of the night. He cast his wistful glance over the room again before readying himself for bed.

He told himself that he had to make Aria stay, no matter who she was or what she was hiding. He couldn't let her run off to Iceland or any other remote parts of the world where he might not find her. She belonged here, in Rosewood, in his arms.


	10. Hauntings

**I do not own PLL.**

* * *

_The dark-haired girl was soft in his arms, the man noted. He felt wetness and smelled the salt of her tears. She was crying, weeping, grieving. It was the kind of sadness that never stopped, the kind that haunted someone for remainder of their days. She shifted slightly so that she could bury her face in the crook of his shoulder. Her breathing, though ragged, was becoming more even. He allowed himself to stroke her hair. She needed comforting, she needed happiness. She was a nameless girl, like a thousand other nameless girls, who had had tragedy befall her. _

_ Sighing, the girl extracted herself from his arms. Are you okay? he asked her. Yes, she whispered softly, her voice barely audible. I don't know what brought this on, she told him. Things happen, he replied with a shrug. She sniffed, and his heart broke again. Stay as long as you need to, he said, eyeing the crowded hallways of the school. No, she answered firmly, I'm okay now. _

_ He let her go, but not before giving her a comforting kiss on the top of her head. She looked at him gratefully before being swept up into the mass of people outside his classroom door. He sighed as he watched her. _

_ That was the last time he saw her. Graduation was only days later. He had heard her father had taken her out of the country, taken her somewhere where she could grieve in peace, without reminders, somewhere where the ghosts of her pasts wouldn't haunt her. _

_ The man soon came to regret his impulsive act of kindness. He was accused of something that did not happen, that would never have occurred. The whispers and the rumors stopped nearly as soon as they started. And they were quickly forgotten. _

_ He couldn't remember what her face looked like anymore. He remembered sad features through tear-filled eyes and blurry memory. _

_ She haunted that place in the back of his mind where he put the things he tried to forget, the things he never wanted to remember, the place where consciousness meets darkness, where the living touches the dead, where the past meets the present. _


	11. Chapter 7

**I do not own PLL. Thanks for the reviews! Please keep them coming. **

**Someone wanted to know why Ezra and Aria don't share a bed. I don't want to give too much away, but that gets answered in chapter 9. And the answer may surprise you.**

* * *

"There," said Aria smoothing a crease out of Ezra's jacket. "That's better."

Ezra surveyed himself in the mirror. "Not bad," he commented, touching his tie.

"Stop fidgeting," chastised Aria, lightly smacking the offending hand. "You'll wrinkle your tie."

Ezra looked down at her. "Are you sure you don't want to come?"

Aria shook her head, and sat down on the edge of the bed in Ezra's room. "No, not tonight. I have plans with Zack."

Ezra sat next to her. "Surely Professor Adamson invited you. You've only been working with her for the last couple of months."

Aria glared at him. "Like I want to go to some boring retirement party where stuffy old professors talk about the good old days and Marxism versus capitalism." She scoffed. "That sounds like a lot of fun."

Ezra chuckled and gave her a peck on the cheek. "It's nice to know that's how you think of me. But seriously, my friend will be there with her boyfriend. They're only a year or two older than you are. We could all go together. It could be fun."

"And I'll still be the youngest person in the room," she quipped lightly. Aria shook her head. "No thank you."

Ezra was silent for a moment, grabbing her hands in his before he responded. "Does our age difference make you uncomfortable? I've never asked you that before."

"Yeah, Ezra. Our astronomical age difference has really had me worried," she replied dryly.

"No, Aria, seriously," let out Ezra, squeezing her hands in frustration before he let them go. "There is an age difference. If you were eighteen and I was twenty-five you might feel differently."

Aria visibly flinched before straightening. "I like to think that love doesn't matter when it comes to age. And no, our age difference doesn't bother me. In all seriousness," she added.

"Would it matter to anyone else?" prodded Ezra.

Aria was silent for a moment before what he was saying dawned on her. "Is this your way of asking about my dad?" she asked incredulously before laughing.

"Thanks," responded Ezra dryly.

"Oh, sweetie. I'm sorry. Our age difference doesn't bother him. We already talked about it." Aria caressed his cheek before standing up and walking across the room.

"So when do I get to meet him?" asked Ezra as he watched Aria rifle through the contents stored at the top of his dresser.

"Soon," promised Aria. "Just not yet. There it is," she let out in satisfaction. Grabbing a gold bottle, she took it back to where Ezra was sitting before spraying him with it. "There," she said smoothing the top of his head. "Now you're ready."

As Aria put the cologne back where it belonged Ezra stood up and followed her. "Are you sure you don't want to come?" he asked her one last time.

Aria attempted a smile and looked at him brightly. "I told you, I have plans with Zack tonight."

"Okay," he replied disbelieving, smoothing out any unseen wrinkles in his jacket.

"But you know where we could go together?" asked Aria, a mischievous gleam suddenly in her eye.

"Where's that?" asked Ezra suddenly looking down at her.

"You could join me in Reykjavik when I go. It'll coincide with your Fall Break. It's perfect!" She let out excitedly.

"You want me to go to Europe with you?" he asked. "I don't know," he added playfully. "This seems like an awfully big step to do with someone whose last name I don't know."

"If you go, I'll tell you," promised Aria.

Ezra's smile melted as his expression suddenly became serious. "I'll think about it," he said.

"You do mean that you really think about and you're not just placating me?" asked Aria.

"I'll really think about it," he returned.

"Hmm," responded Aria giving him a big kiss on the mouth. "Thank you. It would mean a lot to me to show you the orphanage I've been working with over there. Speaking of orphans," Aria grabbed her purse and pulled out a stack of papers. "You said you would proofread these for me, the essays that go with my photographs. Do you mind if I leave them here? I don't need them back for a couple of weeks."

"Yeah, just leave them on the desk in my office. I'll look at them later."

Just then, Aria's phone rang. "I'll see you later," she told him before quickly giving him a peck on the cheek. "Breakfast tomorrow? The café?"

"See you at nine," Ezra called out behind her.

Aria grunted her consent as she walked down the hallway and answered her phone. "Hello?" she said flicking on the lights in Ezra's office.

"Aria, thank goodness," shrieked Spencer. "I don't know what to do. I lost a shoe! It's the silvery strappy one that goes with my green dress. It's not at your house, is it?"

"Why would it be at my house?" scoffed Aria. She looked around the room that Ezra had converted from spare bedroom to office, noting the warm golden brown colors and family photos on the walls.

"Because that's the only place I haven't looked," yelped Spencer in panic.

Aria smiled when she saw the picture of her he had placed on her desk. "Did you check in the back of your closet?" she asked her friend. She placed the stack of papers in the center of his desk before shutting off the light and closing the door.

"Yes," replied Spencer as Aria walked down the stairs.

"Under the bed?"

"Of course."

"I'm leaving," yelled Aria when she reached the front door.

"Okay," yelled back Ezra. "See you tomorrow."

"Aria," snapped Spencer as the other woman closed the front door and walked to the sidewalk. "Quit talking to Ezra and help me find my shoe."

"Did you check under the sofa?" asked Aria. When she was met with silence, she replied. "Told you it wasn't at my house."

"Thanks," breathed Spencer in relief a few moments later. "If I have to go this retirement party I want to at least look nice."

"Spencer," said Aria slowly after a moment's realization. "How did you know I would be with Ezra?"  
"Well, I uh," stammered Spencer. "He might have mentioned you to me not knowing everything," she mumbled.

"You knew this whole time!" exclaimed Aria. "From the very beginning."

"Maybe," admitted Spencer sheepishly.

Aria thought for a few moments longer as she rounded a corner and entered Rosewood's business district. "You didn't, you couldn't have, did you set us up that first night at the bar?"

"Maybe," said Spencer, her voice small.

"Spencer Hastings!" roared Aria over the phone. "How could you? You knew everything that happened in high school. You were the one that told me about the rumors."

"Aria," sighed Spencer. "I knew you guys just needed a chance. You're perfect for each other."

"But Spencer," whined Aria. "He's going to kill me when he finds out."

"He won't kill you," the other woman quickly disagreed. "You should see the way he talks about you. He loves you."

"How could you know this whole time and not say anything?" Aria let out one more time.

"Because you both deserved a chance, and you're both my friends," added Spencer softly. "You deserve to be happy."

Aria shook her head. "I can't talk about this right now. I'm at The Brew. I'm hanging out with Zack tonight, away from all you Hollis people."

"'Night, Aria," said Spencer quickly before her friend hung up the phone.

Aria opened the door to The Brew, and found there were few customers. "Hey, Zack," she greeted.

"Hey, Aria," he returned. "What are you doing alone on a Friday night instead of with your boyfriend?"

"He's at a party. I didn't want to go," she added quickly. "I'd much rather bum coffee and a danish off of you and talk."

"What did you want to talk about?" asked Zack, leading his stepdaughter to a table, coffee and said danish in hand.

"Life," said Aria. "I really just wanted to hang out." She took a bite of her danish. "This is really good," she mumbled, her mouth full.

"It's from a recipe I got in Vienna from the year your mom and I spent there. She loved it there."

"I was there last year," offered Aria. "As a matter of fact, I went by the building that had the flat you guys rented. I have the picture somewhere."

"Did you try some of the apple strudel while you were there? It's amazing." The pair talked forever an hour, remembering, describing, thinking about past...and the future.

* * *

"You're home late," said Aria, looking from her book to where her father was by the front door.

"Yeah, well you know Professor Adamson. She's quite popular, and quite hard to say no to," replied Byron, walking into the living room. "What are you reading?" he asked looking at the book in her hands.  
"_The Dead_," she answered. "It was on my mind for some reason."

"What did you do tonight?" asked Byron, sitting on the couch across from the armchair his daughter was occupying.

"I hung out with Zack at The Brew. We talked and then I helped him close up." She paused for a moment and then continued. "What would you think if I quit traveling, after this next trip to Reykjavik? If I were to stay home for a while?"

"I was hoping to talk to you about that." Byron leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs.

"What about it?" asked Aria, concern spreading across her face.

"Caroline Adamson is the one who brought it up, and I agree that it's a good idea." He cleared his throat before continuing. "With her retirement, there is a spot open on the Hollis faculty for a photography professor. What if it was you?" Byron suddenly rushed on as if he was afraid of what Aria's answer would be. "She was very impressed with your work and your talks with the students. And the students like you. And you would still have summers and Christmas off if you decided you still wanted to travel."

Byron was startled out of his thoughts when Aria's arms encircled him in a warm hug. "Thank you, Dad," she told him before releasing him from her grip. "This is perfect."

"You'll take the job?" asked Byron hopefully.

"I'll take the job…boss," added Aria with a laugh.

"Now don't you start, young lady," teased Byron as the encircled him in a hug one more time.

* * *

When Ezra came back from the retirement party, it was late. He thought about calling Aria, but he knew that she would be asleep. Restless, he put his pajamas on and wandered to his office with the idea that doing some work might put him in the mood for bed. He sat in his chair before noticing the pile of paper on his desk. He suddenly remembered the favor she had asked of him.

Eagerly, he started reading her essays, aware that that this was the first time he had read her writing. It was good writing he noted, as he finished the first essay. Aria wrote with an easy grace that drew someone in and shined light in some of the darkest places of the world. What was she titling her book again? That was it. _Life in Black and White_.

As Ezra read the second essay, a wave of familiarity washed over him. Aria had done a good job of giving the reader a story that they already knew while making it new and interesting. And her wording and grammar were impeccable.

By the third essay, Ezra felt a unease fall upon him like a ton of bricks. He felt like he had read this somewhere before. But Aria wouldn't do something like plagiarize someone else's work. She was too good of a person for that.

By the fourth essay, the pit of Ezra's stomach felt heavy and the burning innocence of the piece was making him ill. He had read this somewhere before. He knew that he had.

But he had never read any work of Aria's before. It was impossible. Unless…. Suddenly flooded with nausea and physical illness, Ezra took out the large stack of papers he kept on the bottom drawer of his desk. He quickly looked at the names on the papers, discarding them until he found the one he was looking for.

It was the oldest paper in the bunch, from his first year of teaching. It was crumpled notebook paper written in gray pencil that had faded to almost nothingness over the years. But there were still traces of words and thoughts and feelings and emotions. and when Ezra saw the nearly washed out name, the outline of the letters barely legible, he felt like someone had punched him in the stomach.

The girlish handwriting of the name on the notebook paper matched the name on the stack of essays. It said Aria. But the notebook paper told him the last name that had been kept secret until now. Montgomery.

Stricken, Ezra pushed all the papers off his desk until they fell, like snow, all around him as the memories came rushing back from the place where they had been buried.


	12. Chapter 8

**I do not own PLL. Thank you for the reviews! They really, really mean a lot. Please kept sending them my way. **

**I hope this was worth the wait.**

* * *

Ezra tapped his fingers on the top of the wrought iron table, taking in the view that his seat on the sidewalk café afforded. He dismissed the crispness of the morning and the golden-colored leaves on the tree as he looked anxiously ahead and thought about what he had discovered the night before. His head was spinning with information-information that made him angry and upset and even sad, information that had allowed him to think clearly for the first time in a long time, for the first time since _her_. And at the same time he wondered at all the things that could have been, both in the past and in the future. And then he saw. And then he knew. And his heart broke.

"Please don't tell me my writing gave you that awful look on your face," a female voice joked. "Or was it Caroline Adamson who did something to you?"

He looked up and saw Aria, really saw her with her beautiful clothes, perfect face, and meticulously manicured nails. He saw her likes and her dislikes, her hopes and failures, her childhood and adulthood flash before him in the blink of an eye.

"It wasn't your writing," let out Ezra hoarsely."It was very good."

"Then why the long face?" questioned Aria as she sat in the seat across from him. "Was it all those boring Hollis professors you had to talk to last night?" Grinning, she leaned over the table and gave him a quick peck on the lips. "Does that make it better?" she teased.

"Worse actually," he admitted, licking his lips.

Aria leaned back in her chair. "What's wrong?" she asked seriously. "Maybe I can help."

He shook his head. "No, I don't think you can." He paused for a moment and studied the contours of her face, her beautiful, shining, unblemished face. "Did I ever tell you about Jackie?"

"No. Why? Who is she?"

"Jackie was a student my second year at Hollis. She was a little older than everyone else in my class; she had taken time off after high school to work. She was a good student, one of my best, in fact. She wasn't afraid to come by my office to talk about her papers and her plans for the future. One day she tried to kiss me. I stopped her. She got upset and threatened to tell the dean I came onto her. My previous history was…in her favor."

"Oh, Ezra," sighed Aria in apathy. "What happened?" She reached for his hand across the table, but he ignored the move and put the hand in question on his lap.

"She told the dean I came onto her and that I threatened to fail her if she didn't comply. She was expelled from Hollis by the end of the week."

"They believed you then?" said Aria raising an eyebrow. "I know they must have."

"They did, but there was this feeling I got from the whole situation. It-it made me feel dirty and awful about myself even though I was innocent. I couldn't stand the way my colleagues looked at me, condemning me, wondering if I was innocent or not. It was a teacher's worst nightmare. I vowed that I would never be in that situation again. And I won't do it, Aria."

She stiffened in response, her body stilling as she began to understand what he was telling her.

"Do you know who the dean was that handled the whole situation?"

"Montgomery," whispered Aria.

"I finally figured out where we met before," he continued sighing. "It was ten years ago at Rosewood High, my first year as a teacher. There was a girl in my class who was always quiet, although she was a thoughtful student and a talented writer. During the last week of school, there were rumors that I was having a relationship with her. They were spurred on by the fact that this girl broke down and cried in my arms one day. The rumors ended almost as quickly as they started but they were still there." He paused, opened his mouth then closed it. Afterwards, he shook his head as if the words were buried deep inside his head and refused to come out. Ezra look horrified.

Aria recognized the anger and the hurt in his voice. The fact that his animosity was toward her made her feel bereft and tears blur her vision. "I hoped you wouldn't care," she admitted. "I thought you might, but I hoped that you wouldn't. It was such a long time ago, and we're different people now. And I really do like you, Ezra. In ways I didn't think possible."

"Why did you really come that first night? Was it to see if I would recognize you? Were you making a bet with someone? Why?" His pain was raw and evident, and it hurt Aria to think that she put it there.

"Because I didn't think it would go this far," she admitted honestly. "I thought we would flirt a little, you would remember me, and we would laugh over the whole thing."

"Did you ever think that it would make me feel awful inside?"

"But why?" she burst out. "We're adults and that was a long time ago and I love you."

"Because if you I love you now the way that I do, then I could have crossed the line ten years ago if something had gone differently. I could have become the person Jackie accused me of being."

"Is that how you see yourself?" she exclaimed.

"That is how you will see me, in time," he told her calmly. "Because soon people will start to make the connection and wonder. Because going to your high school reunion with me beside you will only spark rumors that aren't true and bring to surface old hurts and accusations. Because your father had great faith in me during the Jackie situation. Because…" he drew out the word, "that's the way the world works."

"It doesn't have to if we don't want it to," she said stubbornly.

He smiled softly, a glittering knowing smile that revealed the harsh truth of his words. "Neither of us is that naïve. We both know better. I spoke with your father last night at the party. He kept giving me a look, and I didn't understand it. It was a mixture of fear and uncertainty. Now I know what he was telling me."

"And what was that?" asked Aria softly, her voice cracking.

"That I have no place in your life. Not anymore. Maybe not ever."

"I am still that person that you fell in love with," she argued. "I am still that photojournalist who is writing a book, the well-read, well-traveled one you invited home that first night, the girl who likes to watch old movies and eat take-out with you."

"It doesn't change the past. You were someone else first."

"I had some good news I wanted to tell you," offered Aria softly. "Maybe it might change your mind about us, about everything."

Ezra shook his head. "Nothing you tell me could change my mind, Aria. It doesn't change the past," he repeated.

"But it could change the present," she protested weakly.

He shook his head again. "I couldn't remember you, but you were always there in your words," he told her as he handed her a piece of old wrinkled notebook paper. "This is the best thing I have read in ten years. I kept it with me to remind me why I was teaching." As soon as she grasped it, he got out of his seat and walked away. He didn't even say good-bye.

Aria gave him one last hopeful glance as she watched him go in the small hope that he might look back at her. He didn't. She was left alone on the sidewalk café to delve into her own thoughts on the past, her perspective on him, on _them_.

Aria looked down at the sheet of paper and immediately her mind went back to a small classroom at Rosewood High where she had been told to write about war and hate and had written about love and innocence instead. Somewhere a church bell clanged, waking her up from her stupor, her dream erupting into a nightmare.

* * *

"What's wrong?" asked Byron when his pale-faced daughter walked into the house.

"I-I-," hiccupped Aria. She shook her head and walked over to where her father was sitting in the living room. Sighing a great sigh that attempted to convey all the words she couldn't say, she sunk to her knees and placed her head in his lap as she began to sob.

"Shh." Byron stroked her head and whispered that it was okay. "He broke up with you didn't he?" asked Byron. "Ezra did?"

Aria looked up at her father, her eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot. "You knew?" she asked him.

Byron shook his head. "I guessed." He paused for a moment to let Aria process this information before he asked her. "That's why you wanted to stay, isn't it? And why you wanted the job at Hollis?"

Aria nodded her head as she leaned against the armchair opposite her father. "I love him," she said simply.

"Does he love you back?" asked Byron tentatively.

"He said the words first," whispered Aria. "Oh, Dad, what have I done?" She looked up at him, but he had no words or expressions of reproach.

"I was afraid you would get hurt," was all he said.

Aria shook her head as her shoulders trembled. "It I who hurt him. I'm the one who lied, who knew better." They pair sat in silence for a moment before Aria let out. "He thought you knew. He said you were giving him looks last night at the party. Would it have been so bad?" she exclaimed. "Would it have been such a dark and terrible deed?" She drew her legs up to her chest and rested her chin on her knees.

Byron looked at his daughter carefully, noting, not for the first time, how much she looked like her mother. "I would have loved him for your sake," he answered.

His response sent Aria back into tears, and he watched helplessly as she cried. "I had this life all planned out for us," she let out between breaths. "It was a good life, a happy one."

"Did you think he wouldn't figure it out?" asked Byron incredulously.

"I had hoped it wouldn't matter. Apparently it does."

"Sometimes life isn't black and white," offered Byron. "This is one of those times."

"Were the rumors really that bad?" asked Aria. "And everything with Jackie, was it that bad too that it scarred him?"

"The rumors about you and him weren't bad ten years ago, and everyone knew that nothing had had happened. You were busy grieving the loss of your mother. And with Jackie…let's just say she was a less than model citizen. It wasn't a stretch to believe Ezra when he said she was lying. Put when you put the two situations together and then add your current relationship to the mix. Yeah, it looks bad."

"We won't outlive the rumors?"

Byron thought for a moment. "Most of them. Maybe not all of them."

Aria contemplated her father's words before saying. "Dad, can I ask you one last question?"

"Always," he replied, the edges of his mouth softening into a slight smile.

"Do you think Ezra will forgive me?"

Her expression was hopeful, and Byron's ached for her when he told her his answer. "I don't know."

Aria slowly got up from her position on the floor and walked up the stairs muttering to her father that she would be in her room. Byron watched her go, suddenly aware that the room she went to was the same room she had occupied ten years ago.


	13. Looks

**I do not PLL.**

* * *

_The dark-haired girl studied the dark-haired man enviously as he sat at the wrought-iron table of the sidewalk café. He was engrossed in his novel, taking a few scattered moments to sip the cup of coffee that rested next to him. She wondered if this who he was when nobody was watching, who he was when he thought nobody was watching. He looked so comfortable and cozy in his spot, so sure of who he was, and was so intent in his reading that she wondered what book had grabbed his attention so thoroughly. He was oblivious as the pretty blonde waitress came to fill his coffee cup, her attempts at conversation and flirtation made impossible by his manner of ignorance and avoidance. _

_ Was he waiting for somebody? she wondered as she gazed at him from across the street. She had never seen him in the company of a friend in all the months that she'd known him. She toyed with the idea of waiting to see if her hunch was correct, if someone did sit down and join him at the table. But suddenly she decided she didn't want to know if she was right or not._

_ She began to resume her walk home, when he saw her standing there. He waved in familiarity, and the gesture was accompanied by him mouthing the word "hi." She reciprocated, and he looked at her for a moment longer before she tore her gaze away. She began slowly, putting one foot in front of the other, walking away despite this hollowness she felt in the pit of her stomach. She saw out of the corner of her eye that he had turned his attention back to his book. _

_ It was only years later, after another, more fatal encounter in the same spot that the dark-haired girl, now a woman, realized it was she who had gotten the man to look up, to look out, to look away from his book. To look at her. To think for a moment about nothing else. _

_ Were there such things as fated moments? She wasn't sure anymore. _


	14. Chapter 9

**I do not own PLL. **

**I wrote this before I wrote Chapter 8, and it is one of my favorites. I hope you like it as much as I do. **

**One more chapter (a really epic one), and one more insert and the story will be finished. We're almost there!**

* * *

The first knock was expected, and Ezra didn't look up from his paperwork when he heard knuckles rapping against wood, the sound filling his office at Hollis with sharp sounds. "Leave your paper on the table next to the door, Mr. Rivers, and I'll take a look at it," he said sullenly. He was marking a paper, circling the black and white letters with red pen, when a female voice answered.

"I had a crush on you," the voice said quietly taking up the empty space in his doorframe. "In high school, I had a crush on you." Ezra looked at Aria, who was walking closer to him as she spoke. "That's why I kissed you that night in the bar," she continued softly. "To see what it would be like. I didn't mean to hurt you or lie to you." When he ignored her and looked back down to his grading, Aria sat in the empty seat across from his desk. "I didn't mean to fall in love with you or make you fall for me."

Ezra sighed and then put down his pen. He looked at her and rubbed his face with his hand. When he began to speak, he was unable to mask the raw emotion in his voice. "I didn't even remember you. And you were right there all along. In your words." He looked away.

"Words are a way of letting out what we keep locked inside," said Aria philosophically. She crossed her legs, and leaned back in her chair. "I was hurt my last year of high school. All I knew how to do was write. And you encouraged that." She paused for a moment. "I'm not that person anymore. I'm not hurting anymore."

"Just stop," let out Ezra, the words coming out harsher than he intended. "It went too far, Aria. The game. You should have told me who you were before I took you home that first night. You should have kept your fantasies to yourself."

"But they weren't fantasies," she protested weakly. "I never really thought of you in that way. Not until you were interested in me. And you _were_ interested in me, the me that I am now. Maybe we didn't go far enough," she theorized. "We never actually slept together. Maybe if we had you wouldn't see the girl you knew ten years ago."

"Thank goodness we didn't," Ezra told her, shaking his head in relief. "I wouldn't be able to look myself in the mirror right now."

Aria cleared her throat before posing another question. "If I hadn't ended up in your class that year, if there had been some fluke in the schedule, and you hadn't been my teacher. If I hadn't broken down in your class and cried, would you feel like you do now?"

He responded with silence.

"I didn't think so."

"What are you doing here, Aria?" he asked tiredly.

"I thought it was obvious," she replied. She reached for his hand across the desk, brushing it.

He recoiled and repeated, "What are you doing here, Aria? At Hollis?"

Snatching her hand back, Aria straightened in her seat. "Today I'm talking to Professor Adamson's last class. I came to tell you that I'm leaving for Reykjavik tomorrow. I also talked to my publishers. I've done the bulk of my work already, so I can continue working from Iceland if I want."

She got up, grabbed her purse, and walked to the door. When she reached the entryway, she turned back around and looked at Ezra who sat dejectedly in his chair and stared down at the papers in front of him, cradling his head in his hands. He looked tired and worn. His tie was crumpled and his shirt was wrinkled. "It wasn't all fun and games for me," she explained one last time. "At first it was. But then it became something real. Whatever we had, it was real."

"When?" questioned Ezra, looking up at her. "When did it become real to you?"

"When you invited to your house that first night, and I saw…everything."

"And what's everything?" he asked harshly. "My book collection, my living room, my kitchen?"

"No," she said, her voice soft but firm. "When I saw a house that I could grow old in and a man I could raise children with. That," she finished slowly, "that's everything." She swallowed. "Good-bye, Ezra."

When Ezra looked up, Aria was gone. He thought he could hear her heels in the distance, faintly clicking on tile and wood flooring as she walked away from him. He didn't stop her.

* * *

The second knock was anticipated, and unwanted. But when Ezra saw the dean standing in the doorway, he ushered the man in and urged him to take a seat. Byron Montgomery sat down calmly, cool and collected, as he surveyed the objects in the room. Ezra shifted in his seat uncomfortably. He couldn't remember the last time the dean had come down to his office for a talk, and he suspected that the reason had nothing to do with English department.

"Aria informed me last night that she wasn't sure she was going to come back to Rosewood for a while."

Ezra was silent, unsure of how to answer.

Byron cleared his throat and continued. "I thought she was coming home for good this time. She told me she was tired of traveling." He got up and paced the room for a moment, looking at the books and paper littered around the office. "I thought she had found a reason to stay. I suppose I was wrong." He stopped moving when his gaze caught a picture on the far end of the room. "Aria took this didn't she?" he asked, indicating the photograph. He studied it for a few seconds. "I recognize her work. She can do something with perspective that most people can't." After looking at the photo for a few moments longer, Byron once again sat down across from Ezra.

Byron sighed. "Aria has been running away since she was eighteen. She ran away after high school, and she just never…stopped. I used to think she was running away from something, away from the tragedy of her mother's death. But I think," he took another breath, "I think she was running towards something, looking for something that took her a long time to find."

"Did she find it?" asked Ezra, suddenly finding his voice.

"She's a lot like her dad," replied Byron. "I married my second wife, Meredith, when Aria was in college. I was trying to replace Aria's mother. I loved her so much even though I know that she could never love me in the same way. Meredith and I divorced three years after we got married." He looked down at his hands for a moment before directing his gaze to the younger man. "She will try to find happiness somewhere else, and she will fail. She loves you, and she's in love with the life she imagined with you."

"I'm sorry," let out Ezra, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm so sorry. But I can't sentence her to that kind of life. Everyone will always wonder. Didn't you?" He looked at Byron helplessly, confusion and pain in his eyes.

"Zack did," admitted Byron, referring to Aria's stepfather. "He loves her almost as much as I do. But no, I didn't. Even with everything Jackie accused you of. The Aria I know would never fall in love with a man like that. And the Ezra Fitz I know would never be that kind of man." Byron paused before he added, "Otherwise, you wouldn't be this torn up about it."

Ezra searched for the words to say, but they refused to be spoken.

"Aria has a rare quality. She can make people fall in love with her. She gets that from her mother. But when she loves them back, she loves them fiercely and unconditionally." Byron took a piece of paper from his pocket and set it down on Ezra's desk.

"What's this for?" he asked, looking at the crumpled post-it.

"It's in case you want to give her a reason to stay," replied Byron, getting up from his chair. "You know," he said, looking at Ezra one last time, "I hired you because of all the good things Aria said about you when she was in high school. And I like you," the older man said simply. "Having you as part of my family, it wouldn't be such a bad thing."

Ezra looked down as the piece of paper in his hands and read it. When he looked back up, Aria's father was gone, leaving him alone with his thoughts…and conflicted emotions.

* * *

The third knock was barely a knock. Instead, it was a quick rapping of the knuckles as a brown-haired woman breezed in and plopped down on the seat across from Ezra's desk. "I set you up," Spencer let out bluntly. "With Aria, I set you up. I made sure you would both be in the bar alone that night. Toby thought the whole thing was nuts," she added in his defensive. "He knew you wouldn't like it."

Ezra ignored his friend and continued working on his computer, the clicking of his mouse the only sound that he emitted.

"I know you don't like me setting you up, but you were so perfect for each other. I just knew you were meant to be together." She waited for a response. When it wasn't forthcoming, she continued. "I grew up with Aria. I was with her the night her mom died. Did anyone tell you how she died?" Greeted with silence, Spencer decided to elaborate. "Her mom died in car accident driving to Aria's eighteenth birthday party. It was December, her senior year of high school, and the roads were icy, and some moron under the influence was driving the car behind her. Aria felt really guilty for a really long time. It took her years to get over that guilt. It will take her years to get over this."

"She knew better," muttered Ezra quietly.

"Maybe," agreed Spencer. "But maybe she was taking a chance. She's not the same person she was ten years ago. The traveling was good for her, but it's time for her to stop. She what holds Zack and Byron together. She's all they have of Ella, and they're all the family she has left."

"She can stay for them," said Ezra, never taking his eyes off the screen.

"And what kind of life would that be?" asked Spencer. "They would have her, but what would she have? Reminders that her mother isn't there to glue them together anymore?" Spencer sighed and leaned back in her seat before continuing. "Professor Adamson offered her her job, now that she's retiring. Aria could've been the photography professor here at Hollis. Did you know that? That's the news she wanted to tell you the morning you broke up with her. She was going to stay for _you_. She was going to be there for_ you_."

"What do you know about relationships, Spencer?" yelled Ezra suddenly, scattering the contents of his desk all over the floor. "You've been engaged to Toby for three years, yet you refuse to wear a ring and set a date! You don't even acknowledge him as the man you're going to marry."

Spencer was suddenly silenced, the shock on her face apparent. She looked at her friend and saw fury in his eyes. And pain. "Most people don't think Toby and I are a good match. I have a PhD and he has a GED. I'm a professor, and he's a carpenter. But it works for us," she said slowly, quietly. "Our life works for us. You have to figure out what works for you. What people think doesn't really matter. It only matters what you think of yourself. And what Aria thinks of you."

"She lied to me," said Ezra, his boiling anger stilling into silent rage. "And so did you."

Spencer got up from the chair. "You talk about lying as if you had nothing to do with this. You didn't remember her! She told you, and you couldn't remember. I don't think you're mad at her-or at me. I think you're mad at the fact at the fact that she didn't make an impression on you until she was sliding her tongue down your throat. And that's your fault, not hers."

When Ezra looked back up at Spencer, she was gone.

* * *

That night, Ezra came home later than usual. It was dark out, and he stumbled over something as he tried to unlock his front door. It was a package. Taking it inside, he wondered why the mailman had left it there instead of next to his mailbox like he usually did.

Ripping apart the brown packaging paper, Ezra received his answer when he saw what it contained. It was a black and white photograph of his house. He studied it carefully, remembering the day Aria took it. It was the day he told he loved her for the first time. They were happy then, _he_ was happy then.

Turning the picture frame so that he could look at the photo from different angles, Ezra realized that black and white film really meant the picture was taken in shades of gray. But also saw that Aria had taken a picture of his house, but she had made it look like a home.


	15. Chapter 10

**I do not own PLL. Thank you for the reviews? Any chance I can make it to a hundred? It would make my day (maybe even my week) :)**

**Please see the Author's Note after the section entitled Endings. It will give information about a** **_sequel. _**

**BTW, the reference that Toby made to _Emma _earlier in the story was a hint to how all of this would end.**

* * *

It was a quiet day in Reykjavik. Aria could hear a church bell ringing somewhere in the distance, children laughing as they played in the afterschool hours, cars whizzing past each other on the street. Through her curtained windows, Aria could see the darkness that hinted at the coming winter season. That's one thing she had never liked about Iceland. Six months of constant night without relief, no light or warmth or sun. She missed the sunrises and sunsets of Rosewood.

Sighing, Aria got up from her fetal position on the coach and walked to the small kitchen that adjoined it, putting a pot of water to boil. Everything always seemed better when she had a cup of tea in her hands. Then, she rifled through the messages on her phone. She ignored Spencer's calls and one from a Hollis phone number. She didn't feel like talking to anybody right now, especially Spencer.

Letting the phone drop on the kitchen counter, Aria went into her bedroom, the only other room in the tiny flat. Plopping onto the bed, she stared at the white ceiling. Not for the first time that day, she wondered what she was doing in Iceland. As she mentally answered her own question, she replayed a series of events in her head. It was always the same series, the same memories. They haunted her, and they tortured her. Most of all, she felt guilty for treating another human being as carelessly as she had. Her mother-her bright, shining, happy, loving, mother-had taught her daughter better than that.

_"Here," said Ella giving Aria a plain white tile. "Why don't you paint something pretty for Daddy on this?" _

_ "But I want to do that," said the six-year-old, pointing to the potter's wheel. _

_ "When you're older," promised Ella, handing her daughter a paintbrush. _

_ "Promise?" asked Aria suspiciously. _

_ "Promise," said Ella, kissing her daughter on the head. "And what do we say about our promises?" she questioned. _

_ "We keep them," recited Aria. "That way nobody gets hurt." _

_ "And what happens if we hurt somebody?" probed Ella further. _

_ "We 'pologize," replied Aria, dipping her paintbrush into bright blue paint. _

_ "That's right," chuckled Ella. "I love you." _

_ "Love you," replied Aria distractedly. She smear a streak of blue across her tile before reaching for the green paint. "Mommy?"_

_ "Yes, sweetheart?" _

_ "Do we love everybody?" Aria looked back down at her work, carefully adding the green paint to the edges of her tile. _

_ "Yes. Do you know why?" _

_ "Why?" asked Aria, looking up from her work. _

_ "Because everybody deserves to be loved," replied Ella, smiling at her daughter. _

_ "Mommy?" Aria looked back down at her painting, face scrunched in concentration. _

_ "Yes, sweetheart?"_

_ "How come this green doesn't look like that?" questioned Aria, pointing to a vase across the room. _

_ "It has to go in the kiln. Do you know what that is?"_

_ Aria shook her head. "Uh-uh." _

_ "It's a big fire. The tile will go in there, and it will come out bright and pretty like the vase. Sometimes things have to go through difficult things in order to become beautiful." _

_ "Why?"_

_ "Because that's the way the world works." _

Upset, Aria began to think about where she would go after Reykjavik. Dublin? It was close by and she had always liked Ireland. No, she told herself. She couldn't go there anymore without thinking of _him_. Stockholm? It was only a plane ride away. She scrunched her nose at the thought of Sweden in winter. She needed to go somewhere warm where October and November didn't erupt into freezing infernos. Dubai? Now there was an idea. She hadn't been there in a while. Then she could go to Ethiopia or Indonesia. Indonesia maybe. She had never been there before, and she could stop and see a friend in Singapore while she was in that part of the world.

Aria got up from the bed to check on the water in the kitchen. It was boiling. Turning the stove off, she grabbed a mug and poured water into it, adding a tea bag to the mixture before sitting down in the living room. She flipped through the channels on the TV. Grunting in frustration, she turned it off, unable to follow the Nordic words the machine emitted. She spoke some French, a few words of Spanish, enough Swahili to get to the bathroom, and good enough Cantonese that she once held a conversation with a woman on a train in Hong Kong. She cursed the fact that she had never learned Icelandic even though she spent part of every year in Iceland's capital city.

She sipped her tea and eyed the bare walls of her apartment with a sense of irony. She had sent dozens of pictures home but had not kept one to decorate with. Her phone dinged and she glanced at the text she received from Zack. She responded and assured him she was okay. Sighing, she set her tea down and opened a book. A few minutes later, she closed it, unable to concentrate. She finished her cup of tea and put the mug in the small sink, her slippers softly making noises on the old hardwood floor.

It wasn't the same apartment she had shared with her father. That had been much larger and in a more expensive part of town. She had gotten this apartment five years ago, and she rented it solely for the view she got from kitchen window. It was a view of an old stone church whose stained-glass windows glistened in the sunlight. She looked out the window and watched a woman enter the church.

_"Something new," said Aria as she presented her mother with a velvet box. "And blue," she added. _

_ "Aria," exclaimed her mother, beaming. _

_ "It's from me and Dad," the twelve-year-old shrugged in an attempt to cover up her pleasure at her mother's approval. "We wanted today to be special for you."_

_ Ella opened the box and saw antique gold bracelet laced with sapphires. "It's beautiful, sweetheart. Thank you." _

_ "Dad says that if he's going to walk you down the aisle, he wants you to have something special to wear. Besides your wedding ring, of course," added Aria unnecessarily. She looked down at her rose colored dress and then back at her mother who was slipping the bracelet onto her wrist. _

_ "Are you sure Zack is the one?" asked Aria. _

_ "I know he is," Ella answered her daughter as she put on the finishing touches of her make-up. _

_ "How?" _

_ "Oh, sweetheart," breathed Ella. She turned to Aria and gave her a look. "I just know." _

_ "How did you know Dad wasn't the right one?" asked Aria, her voice small. _

_ "That's a complicated question," said Ella. "I love your father very much. But sometimes two people aren't right for each other, and they're not meant to be together." _

_ "Oh," replied Aria. _

_ Ella took of her robe and revealed a rose-colored gown made of lace and silk. "You like Zach, right?" she asked Aria. _

_ Aria nodded her head vigorously. "I really, really like Zack. A lot." _

_ Ella laughed, the tinkling sound filling the small church room. "Good." _

_ As the pair prepared to leave and head for the sanctuary of the church, Aria looked up and down at her mom's outfit. "Why aren't you wearing white?" _

_ "Because I like this dress, and it's okay to be different especially for special things. Like weddings." _

_ "And marriages," added Aria. _

_ "And marriages," agreed Ella. _

Aria turned away from the window and swallowed back her tears. "I wish you were here, Mom. I miss you so much," she whispered into the empty apartment. Aria sat back down on the sofa and picked up her book again, this time promising to concentrate and pay attention.

Half-an-hour later, the doorbell rang, and Aria grudgingly got up, hoping that whoever it was wouldn't notice her lackluster appearance and gray sweatpants. She stared in shock when she saw who was standing in her doorway.

"Can I come in?" asked Ezra. Aria nodded wordlessly as he entered her apartment, a suitcase rolling behind him. "I'm glad I found the right place. I wasn't entirely sure if the cab driver knew what he was doing."

"How did you find me?" asked Aria. She had crossed her arms across her chest, more of a defensive position than an attempt to keep the cold away.

"Your dad told me where to look." Ezra waved a post-it in the air, and Aria recognized her father's scrawl.

"You talked to him?" she asked quietly.

"It was more like he talked to me," admitted Ezra. He looked around. "This is a nice place," he said, gesturing to his surroundings.

"Not it's not," disagreed Aria. "It's cold and empty, but it has a beautiful view. And a fireplace."

"Maybe," he admitted.

Aria sighed and sat down on the sofa. "Why are you here, Ezra? I thought you never wanted to see me again."

He sat down next to her and reached for her hand. She recoiled, and Ezra placed his offending hand on his lap. "I love you, Aria. Of course I wanted to see you again."

"What about what everybody else thinks?" muttered Aria angrily.

"Who cares?" answered Ezra flippantly.

Aria looked back at him in shock. "What happened to you?"

"Your dad talked to me. And Spencer."

"And they convinced you to fly halfway across the world," finished Aria dryly.

"Not exactly," replied Ezra, shaking his head. "Zack did."

"Zack?" asked Aria disbelievingly.

"Zack," he repeated. "Two days after you left, I was getting coffee at The Brew. Zack let me have it."

"Zack didn't yell at you. He's incapable of it," accused Aria.

"He didn't yell. He talked. He told me about your mom. About how they fell in love. And he told me about you. He cares for you very much."

"And what, you magically changed your mind and hopped on a plane?"

Ezra saw the hurt in Aria's eyes, and the pain and anger and heartache. He hated that he had put that there. "He made me think about something you said," said Ezra.

"And what was that?"

"That our past is not our present."

Aria was silent for a moment, and Ezra thought that, in her anger, she refused to speak. But after a minute, he saw the tear that coursed down her cheek. "I begged you," she choked out. "I begged you not to leave me."

"But you left me."

"Because I thought that's what you wanted. I was going to stay for you." She looked up at him through tear-filled eyes.

"Then come back for me," he told her.

"Why should I?" she let out. "Nothing's changed."

"I've changed," he replied, wiping away her tears. She didn't stop him. "I'm the one whose changed. I realized that love shouldn't be sacrificed, that the life we could have together wasn't worth giving up."

"Does this mean you'll stop seeing me as the girl you knew ten years ago?"

"You will always be that person, carrying her inside of you. But I want to get to know that girl and the woman she's become."

His response took her breath away, and she groped for words. "Spencer says I'm not that person anymore."

"Spencer can go psychoanalyze herself," retorted Ezra. "She needs it." He paused and then continued. "I think she's writing a book about us."

"It wouldn't surprise me," responded Aria dryly.

"Will you move back to Rosewood?" he asked gingerly.

"No matter where I am in the world," she said softly, "I will always be the girl you were accused sleeping with."

"Let them," he replied simply. "Besides, it's seems only natural that I sleep with my wife."

"Whoa." Aria got up from her seat and looked at him. "A week ago you could barely look at me. And now you want to get _married_?"

"Eventually," he responded serenely. "Aria, I can't imagine anyone else I want to spend the rest of my life with. I love you."

Aria sat back down and studied him. She saw hope in eyes, and his gestures revealed his sincerity. "If there's one thing I've learned it's that love doesn't solve the world's problems."

"But it doesn't have to," he said. "It just has to solve ours."

"What you want me to say?" she asked.

"I want you to take that job at Hollis. Yes, Spencer told me," he told in her when she gave him a look. "I want you to come back and start a life with me. I want you to say that you love me too. I know you do."

"There will always be rumors." Aria's expression looked remorseful. "And some people will always wonder."

"Let them. We know that we never did anything wrong. And life isn't always black and white."

"There are always shades of gray," Aria finished for him.

"Always," he repeated with a small smile.

_Aria looked at Ella. "They're talking about you and Zack," she told her mother._

_ Ella sighed. "Let's just enjoy our lunch, Aria, and not worry about what anybody else is saying." _

_ "But why are they being so mean and saying those things?"_

_ "Don't worry about it," repeated Ella, taking a bite of her salad. _

_ "Mom, I'm not a little kid anymore," a sixteen-year-old Aria replied, visibly upset. "Tell me what they're talking about. Maybe I can help."_

_ Ella shook her head. "Nobody can fix this problem, Aria. It's just something I have to live with."_

_ "What is it?" demanded Aria. "Because I love you, and I love Zack." _

_ Ella pushed her food around her plate as she answered. "Those women are talking because Zack is so much younger than me. They think that he married me because I give him things." _

_ Aria gaped. "That's not true," she sputtered. "Zack's the one who works while you don't do anything but work on your art. He _owns_ The Brew. He's the one that took you to Vienna last year." _

_ "I know," replied Ella softly. "But there are people who are too ignorant and blind to realize that he's the one who takes care of me and not the other way around." _

_ "Why don't you say anything?" _

_ Ella shrugged. "Nothing I say will change how they think of me. I'd rather spend my time and energy being happy and not worrying about them. People who like to make other people small are the ones who are unhappy and worried." _

_ "When you love somebody, shouldn't you care what other people say about them?" asked Aria. _

_ "Sometimes, sweetheart," replied Ella quietly, "when you love somebody, you care enough not to care what other people say about them. You trust the person that you're with. That's how you show them that you love them." _

"Come back with me?" asked Ezra tentatively.

Aria shook her head. "Not with you," she said slowly. She saw Ezra rub his eyes and hang his head in defeat. "_For_ you," she finished. "Go back _for _you. And stay _for _you." Ezra looked at her his eyes widening, questioning. "Yes," she simply. "Yes to everything."

Ezra reached for her hand, and she intertwined her fingers with his, and when he leaned in to kiss her, Aria felt as if, in that moment, the world stood still, and no one else existed. No one, except them.

* * *

"Yes!" exclaimed Spencer, punching her fist in the air as she jumped up from her seat, waving around her phone.

Toby looked up at her with a wry smile. "Was that Aria?" he asked, referring to the text she had been reading.

"Yes," replied Spencer, a smile of satisfaction. She put her phone on the coffee table and curled next to Toby on the sofa. "She and Ezra are back together."

"Back together as in they're going to try and work things out or back together as in Aria is the future Mrs. Fitz?"

"The future Mrs. Fitz. I was right about the two of them being together." Spencer sighed in contentment. "I finally have an ending to my book."

"Well, what about our ending?" asked Toby, wrapping his arms around her. "We had a deal."

"You can start planning our wedding," said Spencer.

"And you'll wear your ring?"

"And I'll wear your giant and unnecessary ring," Spencer grudgingly agreed. "But I'm keeping my last name."

"I can live with that." Toby kissed Spencer soundly before she leaned back against him. "When?" he asked.

"Soon," promised Spencer. "Very soon."

* * *

Hours after Aria and Ezra reconciled, they were laying on a large blanket in front of her fireplace. She was resting her head on his chest, and he was stroking her arm with his hand. The apartment was filled with a comfortable silence disturbed only by the crackling of wood as it burned.

"I'll never forget the words you wrote," said Ezra. "Never again."

"What words?" asked Aria lazily, shifting so that she was closer to him.

" The ones from your essay. The old one from high school that I kept in my drawer."

"What did I say?"

"You said that it's easy to die for someone and escape a world where you can't be with the person you love. It's harder to live for someone knowing that you might never see them again."

"Hmm," agreed Aria. "I love you."

"I love you too."


	16. Endings

**I do not own PLL.**

* * *

_The dark-haired woman and the dark-haired man stared at each other from across the church aisle. The pews and the altar had been beautifully decorated with cherry blossoms, tulle, and lace. The looks of love and affection exchanged between the couple was apparent to even the guests in the last row. She giggled when she saw her father shake his head in exasperation. She was sure that he had expected their looks of lust and affection, especially today, but apparently it was even more than he could handle at the moment. _

_She was spared more looks of annoyances from her father, and sentimental ones from the man across from her, as the music in the church changed to the familiar wedding march. The guests stood to their feet as they watched the bride walk down the aisle, looking lovely and sparkling with happiness in ivory colored lace. The look on the groom's face mirrored his bride's delight, and as the woman and the man performed their duties as bridesmaid and best man, they fingered the rings on their own left fingers. _

_ As the ceremony ended and the reception took place, guests oohed and ahhed over the decorations, the taste of the food, and the love between the newly-married couple. The sole bridesmaid alternated between performing her duties and snapping pictures with her camera. And the best man did his best to distract her, pulling her onto the dance floor at a moment that was least expected. _

_ "Are you sad that we eloped?" he murmured, twirling her in a circle. _

_ "Not at all," she replied, whispering her answer in his ear._

_ "Are you sad that nobody has mentioned your book?" he asked next. _

_ "A little," she told him. "But the person that started writing that book, hurt because of her mother, is gone now. And besides, how could I be mad when all anyone is talking about are "Erik" and "Anna" from the bride's book." She giggled suddenly. "I bet they're trying to figure out if it's the bride and groom." _

_ "It's their night," said the man as he shrugged his shoulders. _

_ The woman looked at him for a moment before standing on her toes and giving him a sound kiss on the mouth. "But it's our story," she finished for him. _

_ "It's our story," he echoed softly as he twirled her in his arms and promised to never let her go. _


	17. Author's Note

**It's hard to believe it's over! If you didn't catch some of the details, here they are:**

**-Byron and Ella divorced when Aria was about seven. She lived with her father while she was growing up. **

**-Ella married Zack when Aria was twelve. Byron walked her down the aisle. **

**-Ella died on the way to Aria's eighteenth birthday part in a car accident. This happened in December of Aria's senior year of high school. **

**-Ezra was Aria's English teacher her senior year of high school. He comforted her once when she broke down and cried in his class the last week of school. It sparked rumors that they were in a relationship. **

**-Byron went on sabbatical the year after Aria's last year of high school, and the pair went to Reykjavik. It has become a special place for Aria, and a place that she always goes back to. **

**-After college (and even during), Aria traveled a lot, and ended up becoming a freelance writer/photojournalist who has no permanent home. The book she is working on at the beginning of the story is about orphans around the world, a subject she feels connected to because of her own mother's death. **

**-Byron and Meredith were married for three years while Aria was in college. They divorced because Byron was still deeply in love with Ella and wasn't happy with Meredith. **

**-About five years before the beginning of this story, Ezra stops working at Rosewood High and starts working at Hollis. Byron Montgomery is the dean at Hollis, and he is the one who hires Ezra. **

**-Two years after Ezra begins working at Hollis, he is accused by student Jackie that he was in an inappropriate relationship with her. These accusations were false. **

**-Spencer is a psychology professor at Hollis who is a year older than Aria. I made her older because that way there would be no way she and Ezra would have at Rosewood High together (he as a teacher and she as student). I felt like them meeting at Hollis gave them a special kind of friendship that they wouldn't have had otherwise. Spencer has been friends with Aria her whole life. **

**-Toby and Spencer had a deal that they wouldn't get married until Aria was taken care of. **

**-Spencer set Aria and Ezra up at the beginning of the story because she thought that regardless of the past, Aria and Ezra were meant to be together. **

**-Spencer is publishing a book psychoanalyzing Ezra and Aria's relationship. **

**-The wedding at the end of the story is Spencer and Toby's. **

**Some of things I was unhappy with in this story are:**

**-The unevenness of the movement. The beginning and the end are slower, closer together moments. I wish the middle matched the same pace instead of going faster. **

**-The title. Some other titles I thought of while I was writing this are:**

** -Like Black and White Film **

** -For You**

** -Beyond Reason **

**I will be working on a sequel to this story that involves Aria and Ezra's daughter, Rose. Look for it in about a week. It will be published under the title **_**Stolen Moments. **_

**Here is a quick synopsis:**

When Jonathan Andrews meets Rose at Hollis College, he must figure out what secrets she is hiding from him before he becomes embroiled in her troubled past.


End file.
